


Desert Wolves

by bluegoldrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, Canon - Book, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, House Baratheon, House Dayne, House Martell, House Stark, Love, No Ice Zombies, No White Walkers, Other, Politics, Royalty, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 148,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegoldrose/pseuds/bluegoldrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But Ashara’s daughter had been stillborn, and his fair lady had thrown herself from a tower soon after..."  ~Ser Barristan Selmy</p><p>What if Ashara's daughter lived?  What if Ashara Dayne raised Jon Snow alongside her own bastard?  What if Ned Stark never stopped loving Ashara even when he fell in love with Catelyn?</p><p>The bastards of Lord Eddard Stark are the Desert Wolves.  The true born children of Lord Eddard Stark are the Winter Wolves.  Their lives are lived apart until the tides of war see fit to bring them together.</p><p>**Story Family Tree:<br/>http://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=nxs6b3jknu&f=293650846979428982</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Difficult Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> This story will somewhat follow canon, though it is clearly AU.
> 
> One thing to keep in mind for the characterization of Jon Snow in this story is that he is raised in an entirely different environment than he was in canon. In the nature vs nurture debate, Jon fall strongly in the nurture category. In Winterfell he did not feel welcomed, loved, or like he truly fit in. In Dorne... well bastards in Dorne aren't quite the same as bastards in the rest of Westeros.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy the adventure!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised 4/12/15

Ashara Dayne was rocking her daughter in her arms as she watched the horses and carriage approaching Starfall. They were coming with dark tidings. A messenger had arrived a few hours earlier to inform the household of the business of the approaching riders.

Dayvin, the steward, met with the man. Dayvin had arranged rooms for the messenger and for the coming guests. They would be entering Starfall privately, seen by as few prying eyes as possible. It was for the best, Ashara believed, too many should not know the tidings the men were bringing, not yet.

 Arthur, her elder brother, was dead. He couldn’t be dead, not Arthur. He had been the best sword in all the world. How could Ned, of all the men in Westeros, have been the one to kill him?

“Alysanne, Alysanne, sweet and gentle,” she sang, lulling her little girl into a restful slumber. “You will meet your father today sweet Alysanne.”

The riders drew nearer, and she felt her heart sink just a little more. Life was not supposed to have been this way. She should be married to Ned. They should be living in the Red Keep with Elia and her babes and Arthur.

She left the window and walked the short distance to the nursery. Wylla, the nursemaid, was straightening the room when she entered. She half-expected Allyria, her seven year old sister, to be in the room, but Ally was across Dorne at the Water Gardens. Their father had sent Allyria away shortly after Ashara returned to Starfall so that the girl wouldn’t know of Ashara’s pregnancy. Their eldest brother Arron would return with her when he returned from Sunspear.

“She just ate,” Ashara informed the nurse, “And she has been up since before daybreak, so she should sleep well for a few hours.  I will be meeting with our guests in the solar.”

“Of course, my lady, I will watch over your little one.” The nursemaid smiled warmly. Ashara returned the smile, though she knew her expression held no true pleasure.

She walked slowly to the solar, the room which had once been her father’s and was now her brother’s. She did not want to be in that room, it reminded her too keenly of what the war had cost her. Her father was gone, slain in the Battle of Ashford. He had gone to war for duty, for loyalty, and to honor their liege lord and king. His body had not been returned, and would never rest with his forbearers.

Elia, her closest friend, her confidant, her Princess, was dead, murdered in King’s Landing along with her two babes. Elia, sweet Elia, made of Valyrian Steel and twice as sharp, though everyone thought her made of glass. They had known one another since they were girls, and they were cousins to some close degree. Lady Aliandra Dayne nee Martell, Ashara’s mother, was first cousin to Meria Martell, Elia’s mother. Ashara had held both of Elia’s children. Rhaenys was so much like her uncle Oberyn, so full of life and light and fire. Aegon was only a babe... What sort of monster murders babes?

She wished that she had been in King’s Landing longer, so that she could have seen Rhaenys dance to her father’s songs and Aegon’s teeth begin to grow. Alas, she had been sent away as soon as her condition, her pregnancy with Alysanne, had become known. Elia had dismissed her home, so that she might not become a source of gossip in the court. Her father had forced her to remain sequestered within a select few rooms of Starfall so that her shame could be kept hidden.

She had been forbidden to write to anyone about her pregnancy, as though that would make the condition disappear. By the time Alys had been born, the war had begun and she dared not name Alysanne’s father. He was condemned to death, a traitor of the crown, until the Usurper won his war with Eddard Stark by his side.

Would he have waited for her if he had known about Alys? Would he have killed Arthur? She felt nothing. Arthur couldn’t be dead. He was the best sword in the world. Why would Ned kill Arthur? Why would Ned even be in Dorne? Why did he marry Catelyn Tully when he had promised to marry her? Why was her father dead? Why?

She wondered how much time had passed between entering the solar which had been her father’s to the time Lord Eddard Stark arrived. She had lost count of time when Dayvin entered the room and told her about the guests. Lord Eddard was accompanied by another man, two women, and an infant. Dayvin had escorted them to private rooms, far from prying eyes. They had asked for a wet-nurse for the babe, and the infant had been taken to Wylla. Ashara acknowledged the steward’s words and then asked for Lord Stark to enter the room.

Eddard Stark entered, and they were left alone. He was worn, tired, and covered in fine red dust from the Red Mountains. She saw the shadows in Ned’s eyes, her Ned, and she wished that there was something inside of her which could feel anything. She wanted to love him, to touch him, to be told that nothing bad had happened since they had made Alys at Harrenhal.

They did not speak as he approached and placed Dawn, Arthur’s sword, the sword of House Dayne, upon the desk before her. She touched the sword gingerly, biting back tears which threatened to fall. That was a funny thing, she did not remember when last she had cried. Was it when she had lost Ned or her father or Elia and the babes? She did not know, for she had not felt anything in so very long.

"Did you kill him," she questioned quietly.  She kept her eyes trained upon the blade, not wanting to make eye contact. She did not want to see him, not now.

"Yes," he answered eventually.  She could hear the pain in his voice. Did he have a right to pain? Yes, she knew he did, he too had lost much.  "It was never supposed to be like this.  He was guarding my sister.  I would never have let harm come to her.  They raised up their swords and we fought back.  Only two of us survived the day.”

“Your sister?” She had nearly forgotten Lyanna Stark, the girl for whom a realm was destroyed. She looked up at him, seeing the anguish which lined his eyes and face.

“She’s dead,” he whispered.

"May the gods give them rest." Arthur had died as he had lived, he would have wanted nothing better. Why had he been guarding... and she knew... Arthur had said, only briefly and a few months past, that he was doing his duty to his sovereign. “How did she die?”

He shook his head. “Asha please...”

She snapped, cutting off his words. It was venom, the first emotion she had felt in many months other than when she felt peace holding her little girl. “The babe is hers isn’t it?”

The color drained from his face. “He’s an infant, innocent of anything his parents did.”

The Dragon’s whore had a child... a cousin to her own Alysanne. A child who had been born while his own half-brother and sister were murdered beside their mother. She wanted to laugh or cry, she did not know which felt more appropriate.

“Why bring the bastard of the Dragon’s _mistress_ here? That child will find no safety in Dorne.”

He sank into one of the chairs near her. “I needed to see you. I needed to explain everything to you. I needed to return Ser Arthur’s sword. I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t know what to do.”

She laughed, a bitter tone. "I heard that you have married."

His face displayed guilt, pain, at least he could feel something. "Ashara I..."

"You're sorry?  I know that during the war our families were on opposite sides, but do you really think an apology will heal the hurts I feel? My father is dead. My closest friend and her children are dead. My brother is dead at your hands.”

She laughed, nearly hysterical. “I have a daughter, Ned.  Alysanne is your firstborn.  What will become of her?"

He placed his head in his hands and she stood. She was fury and he was nothing but shocked. "A daughter?” He seemed lost. “Asha, I didn’t know.  There was no word of you after Harrenhal.  I thought that you had forgotten me."

"Forgotten you? I gave you my virtue."

"I know," he muttered softly.  "What would you have me do?  I am wed to Catelyn Tully.  I can and will support you and the child. When she is of age I will find a husband for her."

"Is that what you think I want?  Money and a place to ship my child off to when she gets older?" He looked at her in quiet confusion.  "I wanted a husband.  I wanted a man who would love me and my daughter."

"I do love you.” His voice broke and he shook his head. “I wanted to marry you, Asha. I barely know my wife but she is near to term with my child, and may have already birthed the babe.”

Love me... She was overcome with a wave of emotion and sank to the ground in sobs. He knelt beside her and gathered her in his arms. He cried quietly against her as she sobbed loudly.  The war had taken much away from both of them.  Their fathers and brothers had both died for hopeless cause.  He pulled her away gently and cupped her face in his hands.  With his thumbs he wiped the tears from her eyes.  She wiped his tears away with her own fingers.

“I would rather have married you, but I cannot change what has come to pass. The gods know that I would have gladly taken you to wife. I will always love you Ashara, but I must do my duty to my wife.”

She gently kissed his lips, on impulse. He kissed her back, tentative, emotional. She could have gladly died in his embrace.  A part of her did die when he pulled away. “I will always love you too,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers. “I am sorry. I am sorry for everything.”

“Why did Arthur die?” The words came from her mouth in hushed tones.

He pulled away from her and rested his head in his hands again. “He died to protect his king.”

“His king?”

“Rhaegar took my sister as a second wife. I do not know if she was wholly willing or not. Your brother died to protect the child from anyone, even his own uncle. I never would have hurt the boy... he is my nephew, my blood. I would never have any child killed. I hate what happened to Princess Elia’s babes.”

She moved her head slowly, absorbing his words. “My brother died doing his duty to his king.” She laid a hand in his and squeezed. He held onto her hand, as though she was his anchor. “How will the child be kept safe?”

“I don’t know. I... I was considering taking him to Winterfell and claiming him as my bastard.”

She bowed her head, thoughtful. “He could remain here.” The words left her lips slowly, uncertainly.

He stared at her in shock. “How will he?”

She smiled thinly. Her brother had died to protect the boy. Her daughter was his cousin. It seemed a natural duty to protect the boy. “We already have one child together my lord, a second will not seem so strange. I have remained in seclusion this entire time, and none will realize differently save for one or two who are loyal to my family.”

He touched her cheek gently, and she leaned into his touch. “Another child will destroy your reputation more than I have already done. Will you be safe here?”

“I can convince Arron to agree with me. Should Prince Doran have any questions, I will tell him the truth. They will support revenge if nothing else. Although I do not know if they will believe he is legitimate.”

He pulled a crumpled letter from his vest. “We burned all the other letters in the tower when we built the cairns for the dead. I saved this as proof. It is a letter from Princess Elia to Lyanna. Keep it if you will, so that some day the boy will know the truth.”

He passed her the letter and she read it slowly, memorizing and touching the words of her now deceased friend. She did not understand the letter entirely. She did not understand how Elia could have known about Rhaegar and Lyanna and never speak a word to anyone. So many would be alive now if only... if only so many things. She was in tears by the time she folded the letter and hid it in a pocket of her gown.

“Have you thought of a name for the boy,” she asked when she was able to speak again.

“Jon.  I want to name him for Lord Arryn.”

She smiled weakly.  “A good name.  May I meet him?”

He nodded. “Of course my lady. What is our daughter’s name?”

“Alysanne,” she replied. “Come with me and meet her.”

They walked from the room together, leaving Dawn upon the desk, the only witness of their conversation.  They arrived in the nursery to find the nurse rocking Jon while Alysanne crawled along the floor. She pulled herself up and along the furnishings toward her mother.

Ashara scooped her daughter into her arms and tossed the girl slightly, causing her to giggle merrily.  “Lord Stark, meet your daughter.”  She passed the girl to Ned, and he somewhat nervously held the little girl.   She had her mother’s violet eyes and dark thick hair.  He smiled at her and she laughed.

“Hello Alys, I’m your father.”  She cooperated with his attentions for a minute before squirming to be passed back to her mother.  Ashara kissed her daughter before placing her on the floor near her toys.  The nurse handed Jon to Ashara and she looked at the newborn boy.  He had grey eyes and dark hair, though he was too young for her to see any other features.  Ashara supposed that the boy would be safe enough if she claimed the boy as her own. Any Targaryen features he might some day possess could be easily mistaken for Dayne traits.

“They will be raised as brother and sister Ned.  House Dayne will protect the children.”

He responded without ever taking his eyes off of Alys.  “Thank you for everything Ashara.  Will you take in my sister’s maids who came here?”

“Of course Ned.”

“Will your brother Arron approve of these arrangements?”

Arron Dayne, Lord of Starfall and Ashara’s eldest sibling, was at Sunspear. She knew that he would return soon, with their youngest sister. She was certain that she could make him understand why she had taken in the boy. Arthur would have protected Jon, and so should they. She did worry over Arron’s friendship with Prince Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper of Dorne was restless since his sister’s murder, and Prince Oberyn’s friends were eager to begin fighting again.  “Arron will be perfectly fine with the news of my son’s arrival.”

She could feel peace as she looked at the babe in her arms who looked up at her with sleepy, curious eyes. She looked to Ned and saw how warm his expression was toward her and the children. The war had brought so much death and pain, but perhaps here there could be a happier life for the children. Ashara may not have been able to be Lord Eddard’s wife, but she could protect his secrets and their daughter.

They dismissed the nurse and remained with the children for hours. Wylla returned at one point to ensure that all was well and left food and drink, but otherwise Ashara and Ned spent the remainder of the day alone with the children. They spoke at length. They laughed. They wept. They kissed as though they would never touch again.

* * *

Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Howland Reed tarried a fortnight at Starfall before beginning the long journey north. Leaving Ashara and the children was one of the hardest decisions that Ned had ever made, but he knew that his duty was elsewhere. Winterfell was his home, and the North was his to rule. His bride and their child were at Riverrun but would also make the journey north now that the war was ended.

Many times during their stay and after departing from Starfall, the Lord of Winterfell tried to tell himself that he would never betray his vows to his bride.  He told himself that he was a good and honorable man.  However a good, honorable man would never have had to make the decisions which he had made.  He had taken Ashara’s virtue and married another woman.  He had killed the uncle to his own daughter.  He was protecting the heir to the throne.  A boy who would, in all likelihood, one day try to overthrow Eddard Stark’s best friend.  Eddard Stark was just a man.  A good man, but filled with faults.  Ashara was his weakness.  Ashara was his love and joy and shame.  He had left her with child when he returned to the North.


	2. With Deepest Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised 4/12/15

_...I have named him Arthur, Sand of course.  His eyes are grey like yours and Jon’s.  Prince Oberyn said that I was like to have a brood to rival his own.  I laughed at that suggestion.  I have no interest in anyone but you, and you are in Winterfell with your bride and son._

_Congratulations upon the birth of your heir.  I do wish for you to have many happy and healthy children with your bride.  I know that she must hate me, but let her rest assured that I will remain in Dorne, at Starfall, with our children.  I hope that these southern wolves of mine may meet your northern wolves one day.  I know that is unlikely, but it is still a hope._

_Prince Oberyn has taken a liking to Jon.  He hopes to train Jon in all manner of weapons as he grows older. He has promised to train Arthur as well.  My brother Arron is fully in favor of Prince Oberyn training Jon.  They are also contemplating training dear Alys with weapons.  I have told them that they may train the boys to fight, but not Alysanne.  I am unconvinced that my request will be heeded._

_It seems that Lord Arryn was able to prevent Dorne from raising its banners against the Iron Throne in favor of the Prince Viserys.  I am grateful that we will have peace. Far too many lives, dear and precious to us, all have been lost in the war._

_I have happy news to report to you. Arron is pledged to wed Marissa Cuy. From what I have heard, she is a lovely young woman, younger than I am by four years! Arron is five and ten years her senior, but the match is a good one. The Cuy’s have their seat at Sunhouse, which is not far from Starfall. They are sworn to Highgarden, but we shall not hold that against them._

_I am glad that Arron will wed again. He has been terribly lonely since his first wife died. Hopefully Marissa will be able to produce an heir for House Dayne, as we are terribly lacking in legitimate heirs other than myself and my younger sister._

_There is much else that I would wish to say to you.  For now I will wish you and your family good health.  Know that myself and our children are well._

_With deepest affection,_

_Ashara Dayne_

* * *

 

Lord Arron Dayne had been somewhere between terrified and furious when he learned about Jon upon his return to Starfall. He had wondered how she expected the child to go unnoticed. He had asked how she expected to keep Jon’s true birth a secret, and she had scoffed at him.

“I have been kept in private apartments while our steward runs the affairs of Starfall, dear brother,” she spat. “Most of our staff are unaware that I have one child, and Alys is over a year old. A second babe having been conceived during the war by the same man is hardly unusual.”

“I don’t understand how you could help Lord Stark of all people. He killed our brother!”

“Our brother died to defend Jon! It is our duty to do the same! Besides, he is Alys’s cousin, it will be good for them to be raised together.”

They had fought fiercely and he had called her any number of coarse names. In the end, however, he had agreed that their duty was to protect Jon. She had been correct in her assumption that the staff had little to no knowledge of her children. Of the servants who knew that Jon was not Ashara’s, they found few issues. Dayvin, the steward, was born and raised at Starfall. His family had been in service to House Dayne for generations. He would keep any secret that was required of him. Wylla had also been born and raised at Starfall, and she adored Jon. She treated him as though he was her own, though to a lesser degree than Ashara.

The two handmaidens who had been Lyanna Stark’s seemed trustworthy enough, but they were strangers, and Jon was too big a secret to entrust to strangers. Ashara had forbidden them from leaving their room other than to assist with Jon. Arron had not known what to do with them either, and maintained their restrictions. When Prince Oberyn Martell had been told the truth about Jon, he had taken them from Starfall. Neither Ashara nor Arron ever asked what became of them.

Telling Prince Oberyn Martell that Jon Sand was in truth Jon of House Targaryen had been a harrowing endeavor. He was able to discern that Jon was not Ashara’s in an instant. He accused her and Arron of protecting the child of the “dragon’s whore”. It had taken Elia’s letter, which Ned had left behind, and a long discussion of Arthur Dayne’s final wishes for the Red Viper to be appeased. His first action was to burn Elia’s letter, for safety. His second act was to promise that Elia would be avenged. He also swore to train Jon to fight, and he swore to keep the secret of his birth.

Then, for a time, there was peace. Lord Arryn visited Dorne to plead for peace, and peace was secured. Dorne, in return, withdrew from the politics of Westeros. They learned quiet patience as House Baratheon strengthened itself in King’s Landing.  In secret, during the years of waiting, a pact was signed betrothing Jon of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men to Princess Arianne Martell.  A watch was also kept on Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys as they wandered the Free Cities.  By the grace of the gods, Jon was protected and did not have to run in fear throughout Essos with his uncle and aunt.  Westeros cared little for Dorne and Dorne, with few exceptions, believed that Jon Sand was the son of Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark.

With three bastards claimed as hers to raise, Ashara Dayne was no longer so desirable to wed. Hopes for a legitimate heir to House Dayne lay with young Allyria, a mere girl, and Arron if he remarried. So, as Lord of Starfall, Arron sought a bride. He wed Marissa Cuy of Sunhouse. Within two years, she was with child.

* * *

_Lord Eddard Stark,_

_I am pleased to hear that a daughter has been born to you and your wife, the Lady Catelyn. I hope that both mother and child are doing well.  I also hope that your son Robb is growing hale and hearty._

_Our southern pack is doing well.  They are growing too fast Ned!_

_Alys is a brilliant young lady, though she is not yet five years old. She can already write simple words and do simple mathematics problems. I can hardly believe that she is so old! Has it truly been so long?_

_She is overly fond of bossing around her little brothers, and as she is the eldest they follow her lead more often than not. She loves to run, and the boys follow after her. She is fond of horses and lemons. They play in the lemon groves with Allyria almost every day._

_Alys is also quite fond of our heart tree, as is Jon. Did I ever tell you that we have a heart tree at Starfall? I know that we spoke of the old gods when first we met. Being descended from the First Men, we have had a genuine, weirwood, heart tree here for many long ages, when both of our ancestors were Kings in their own kingdoms instead of vassal lords. It is in our lemon orchard of all places... It was never burned when the Andals arrived. I trust that you will find that bit of information interesting._

_It is difficult to teach the children which gods to follow. In Dorne we have such a strange combination of cultures. It may be easiest to teach them to follow the old gods and the Seven. I would like to know what you want for them in that regard._

_Jon is fond of insisting that he can do anything. He insists that he lace his clothes, which I allow even though he is quite hopeless at it still.  He is also quite insistent that I read to him two stories every night before he sleeps. I tell him endlessly of Princess Nymeria of the Rhoynar and of Aegon the Conqueror. Alysanne prefers that I sing ‘Alysanne’ to her, which I suppose is a result of my singing that to her when she was a babe._

_Arthur is learning to use a chamber pot on his own! It should not be long before he is fully trained, which is quite a relief!_

_In other news, Arron’s wife is due in four months’ time, so there will be an heir to House Dayne at last! I pray that this child survives. Arron’s first wife had many babes but none lived longer than a moon’s turn._

_Returning to our children, Prince Oberyn insists that they are old enough to hold small spears. Spears! Arthur is still a babe!  I promise you that the idea of them ever fighting terrifies me. I hope that you will pardon the thought, but I think of my brother Arthur dying in battle whenever I see Alys, Jon, or Arthur holding a wooden spear._

_I know that this letter is short. I have been rather busy of late in helping Arron with our merchants._

_I know that it is selfish of me to say this, but I wish that you could visit the children.  They adore their uncle, aunts, and the Martells, but they will want to know their father one day. I like to believe that you want to see them as well._

_Affectionately,_

_Ashara Dayne_

* * *

 

Lord Stark would not see his children and nephew again until Balon Greyjoy rose in rebellion against the Iron Throne. He came south in pursuit of reavers, and once they were captured, continued on to Starfall. They docked at Starfall to rest and resupply. Lord Stark also felt that it was past time that he meet his son. Lord Eddard and his men were given lodgings within the castle upon their arrival. If any of the men had thought it strange to visit a place so far south, they did not speak out against their liege lord’s commands.

Ashara thought Ned Stark to be as handsome as the day she had first laid eyes upon him when he came to visit her and their children. His greeting was polite, cool, and courteous. He seemed nervous to be at Starfall again. The three children stood before her when they met, and she introduced them to him one by one.

Alysanne, now nearly seven, was a miniature version of her mother. Her hair hung in a mass of dark curls down her back. Her eyes were dark purple with hints of light blue around the iris. Jon and Arthur resembled one another. The boys both had dark brown hair and grey eyes. Jon’s build bore a stronger resemblance to his father, lean and tall, with thin hair, but otherwise he was very much a Stark.

“Children, this is your father, Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.” The children all bowed to him as formally and politely as children can.

Ashara noticed the tangible sadness which filled his eyes when he looked upon his children. “I am pleased to meet all of you. I did have the pleasure of meeting the elder two of you some years ago, when you were but babes.”

“Mother says that you have other children too,” Alys chirped.

He smiled at her and knelt so that he was on level with the three children. Arthur clung back against his mother’s skirt, but the other two stood closer to their Lord Father. “I do. Robb and Sansa are your younger half-brother and half-sister. There will be another half-brother or sister born quite soon.”

“Can we meet them?” Alys questioned. She, always the first to speak.

He laid a gentle hand upon her cheek. “I hope some day that you might, my sweet. I wish that I could spend more time with all of you. I must leave soon, for I am fighting in a war against a rebellious lord. I will spend time with all three of you while I am here. I am sorry that I have missed seeing all of you grow.”

“May we write you father,” Jon asked politely, biting his lip anxiously.

Ned smiled and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You may write to me every day if you wish. I would enjoy hearing from all three of you. I shall write to you as well.”

He looked up to Ashara, eyes full of sorrow. “Now I believe that I shall leave all of you for a short while to speak with your mother.”

The children complied, allowing him a hug and kiss, before he stood and walking from the playroom with Lady Ashara. “I have missed so much time with them,” he said eventually.

“I remember holding Alys when she was still just a babe and now she looks half a young lady.”

“Would that we did not live on opposite sides of the country.”

His lips pressed together in a grim line.  “I think it wiser that we do.  Cat and I are affectionate toward one another, but I think that she prefers to ignore my war children.”

“War children?  Is that what they are?” Ashara laughed at the notion.

He gave a non-committal shrug.  “I think that if it were just Alys, she could forgive me. Perhaps she would even allow a visit from both of you.  Alys was conceived at Harrenhal, when Cat was betrothed to Brandon.  Jon and Arthur on the other hand...  She sees them as a threat to Robb.”

“To Robb?  Do you really think that I would put my sons up against their half-brother?”

He took her hands and looked her in the eyes.  “No, I do not, my wife does. I will respect her by not bringing more conflict into Winterfell that I have already been responsible for.”

She sighed.  “I want them to know their brother and sister.  I want them to know you. They are your children!”

He kissed her hands.  “I want to know them.  I want to know what stories they listen to at night.  I want to know the songs they sing.  I want to know their favorite colors.”

“Alys loves green.  Jon’s favorite color is white.  Arthur’s favorite color at the moment is red.”  She smiled sadly at him and his eyes were clouded with sadness again.  She caressed his cheek gently.  “Spend time with them my love.  A week of rest for you and your men will also give you time to spend with all of them.  Be grateful that Prince Oberyn is not here for a change.  He has taken to teaching Jon everything he knows about weapons.”

Ned’s eyes narrowed at her. “He knows doesn’t he?”

She gave him a slow nod of her head.  “For years now.  He is training Jon for the future.”

“What future?  I am fighting for House Baratheon against a rebel House.  The Martells need to let their vendetta die before it kills us all.”

She glared at him.  “You are the one who left me with the children to raise alone!  You are the one who gave me the responsibility to keep them safe!  I am doing the best I can to raise them, protect them, and guide them.  All the while you get to stay in Winterfell with your Riverlands bride.  Are you happy with her?  Do you love her?  Or is she just your duty?”

“I love you both,” he whispered quietly.  She pressed her lips to his, wanting him to respond.  He hesitated at first, and then responded with an equal passion.  He followed her willingly to her chambers that day, and the days that followed.  He spent his days with the children and nights with her.

If Lord Eddard Stark’s men noticed their liege lord’s indiscretions, they did react outwardly while at Starfall.  When he left, Lord Arron Dayne and his men followed.  When the Greyjoy Rebellion ended, Lord Eddard Stark returned to Winterfell with Theon Greyjoy as his ward.  Lord Arron Dayne never returned.  He died off the coast of Pyke, leaving his young son Edric as the Lord of Starfall.

Lucas Sand was born nine months after Lord Stark left Starfall.


	3. Timeline of Events!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A timeline of events for the story, plus a short history of House Dayne, modified for my own purposes from A World of Ice and Fire and other sources. I will add more birth years later for characters who were born before the Rebellion. Some of this is not fully edited as these are my story notes, but I think they will help everyone! This will be moved to chapter 3. Chapters 1 and 2 are being revised, 1 is done but not posted as of yet. (4/8/15)

**Story Family Tree:[link](http://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=nxs6b3jknu&f=293650846979428982)**

** House Dayne **

  * House Dayne is one of the oldest Houses in all of Dorne, perhaps in all of Westeros. They are the blood of the First Men, having settled the isle of Starfall during the Age of Heroes. They were among the last Kings of Dorne to bend the knee to Nymeria of the Rhoynar. King Vorian Dayne, Sword of the Evening, the last King of House Dayne, was sent to the Wall by Nymeria. She later wed his brother Ser Davos Dayne with whom she had children, these children are the ancestors of the present House Dayne.
  * After Aegon's conquest, Dorne remained unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. Dorne did not join Westeros under the Targaryens until the marriage alliance of King Daeron II Targaryen to Princess Mariah Martell and Princess Daenerys Targaryen to Prince Maron Martell. King Maekar I Targaryen, the son of Daeron and Mariah, wed Dyanna Dayne, the mother of six Targaryen children including Aerion "Brightflame", Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch, King Aegon V "The Unlikely", and a daughter named Daella. Daella was wed to her cousin Harron, the Lord of Starfall, their descendants are the current heirs of House Dayne.
  * Lord Vorian Dayne, who was Lord of Starfall when the War of the User... Robert's Rebellion, began. He was wed to Princess Aliandra Martell, first cousin to Princess Meria Martell. Meria Martell was Princess of Dorne before and during the Rebellion. She was the mother of Prince Doran, Prince Oberyn, and Princess Elia. Princess Elia was the tragic bride of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, murdered in the Sack of King's Landing by the Lanni.... by persons unknown.



 

**House Dayne in this story:**

Vorian Dayne

                Born: 234

                Married: 251

                Died: 282, Battle of Ashford

                Married:

                Aliandra Martell (1st cousin to Princess (Meria) Martell, the mother of Doran, Elia, and Oberyn)

                                Born: 236

                                Married: 251

                                Died: 275, complications from childbirth

                                Children:

                                Arron Dayne

                                                Born: 252

                                                Died: 289, Battle of Pyke

                                                Married:

                                                Elinor Qorgyle

                                                                Born: 255

                                                                Married: 274

                                                                Died: 281, complications from childbirth

                                                                Children: No offspring survived infancy

                                                Marissa Cuy

                                                                Born: 267

                                                                Married: 285-289

                                                                Died: (alive)

                                                                Children:

                                                                Edric Dayne

                                                                                Born: 287

                                                                                Married: Unwed

                                                                                Died: (alive)

                                Arthur Dayne

                                                Born: 254

                                                Married: Unwed

                                                Died: 283, Tower of Joy

                                                Note: Joined the Kingsguard around 271

                                Ashara Dayne

                                                Born: 263

                                                Married: Unwed

                                                Died: (alive)

                                                Children:

                                                Alysanne

                                                                Born: 282

                                                                Died: (alive)

                                                Arthur

                                                                Born: 284

                                                                Died: (alive)

                                                               

                                                Lucas

                                                                Born: 287

                                                                Died: (alive)

                                Allyria Dayne

                                                Born: 275

                                                Married: Betrothed

                                                Died: (alive)

                                                Note: Betrothed to Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven, in 294

                                                Espoused:

                                                                Beric Dondarrion

                                                                                Born: 276

                                                                                Died: (alive)

* * *

 

**TIMELINE OF EVENTS**

**Year       Month #**

**256**

256                       Mace Tyrell is born

**257**

**258**

258                       Alerie Hightower born

**259**

259                       Rhaegar Targaryen is born

259                       Tragedy at Summerhall

259                       King Aegon V Targaryen dies

**260**

260                       War of the Ninepenny Kings

260                       Ormund Baratheon dies

**261**

261                       Destruction of House Tarbeck and Reyne by Tywin Lannister

**262**

262                       Aerys Crowned King

262                       Brandon Stark is born

262                       Robert Baratheon is born

**263**

263                       Ned Stark is born

263                       Tywin and Joanna Lannister marry

263                       Ashara Dayne is born

**264**

264                       Catelyn Tully is born

**265**

265                       Stannis Baratheon is born

**266**

266                       Jamie and Cersei Lannister are born

266                       Lysa Tully is born

**267**

267                       Tytos Lannister dies

267                       Lyanna Stark is born

**268**

268                       Petyr Baelish is born

**269**

269                       Benjen Stark is born

**270**

**271**

**272**

272                       Obara Sand is born

**273**

273                       Edmure Tully is born

**274**

274                       Tyrion Lannister is born

**275**

275                       Viserys Targaryen is born

275                       Willas Tyrell is born

275                       Nymeria Sand is born

275                       Allyria Dayne is born

275                       Aliandra Martell dies

**276**

276                       Arianne Martell is born

276                       Beric Dondarrion is born

276                       Asha Greyjoy is born

                                **277**

277                       Renly Baratheon is born

277                       Garlan Tyrell is born

277                       Tyene Sand is born

                                **278**

278                        Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell marry

                                **279**

279                        Theon Greyjoy is born

                                **280**

280                        Brienne of Tarth is born

280                        Jamie Knighted

**281**

281         3             Sarella Sand born

281         10           Aegon Targaryen born

281         11           Tourney at Harrenhal

281         12           Elinor Dayne, nee Qorgyle, wife of Arron Dayne dies in childbed

                          **282**

282         2             Ashara Dayne sent back to Starfall

282         4             Lyanna Stark taken from the Riverlands

282         5             Brandon Stark arrives in KL

282         5             Summons sent to Rickard Stark et al within a day

282         7             Rickard Stark arrives in King's Landing, everyone executed

282         7             letter arrives in Eyrie with the order for Jon Arryn to kill Eddard and Robert a week later

282         7             The rebellion starts

282         8             Battle of Gulltown, Ned and Robert go to raise their banners

282         8             Alysanne Sand is born, daughter of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne

282         10           Battle of Summerhall

282         12           Battle of Ashford

282         12           Lord Vorian Dayne, father of Arron, Arthur, Ashara, and Allyria dies in combat

282         12           Siege of Storm's End begins

                              **283**

283         1              Battle of the Bells

283         1              Ned/Cat wed, Jon Arryn/Lysa wed

283         3              Samwell Tarly born

283         4              Battle of the Trident

283         5              Queen Rhaella Targaryen and Viserys sent to Dragonstone

283         7              Sack of King's Landing

283         7              Margaery Tyrell born

283         8              Siege of Storm's End lifted

283         8              Jon, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, born

283         9              Skirmish at the Tower of Joy, Lyanna dies

283         9              Ned visits Starfall

283         10            Robb Stark Born

                        **284**

284         2              Catelyn and Robb head north

284         2              Daenerys Targaryen Born

284         4              Catelyn and Robb arrive in Winterfell

284         6              Arthur Sand born

                          **285**

285         3              Arron Dayne and Marissa Cuy are wed

285         5              Elia Sand is born

                           **286**

286         2              Joffrey, nee Baratheon, is born

286         12           Sansa Stark is born

                   **287**

287         4              Trystane Martell is born

287         6              Edric Dayne is born

                             **288**

288         6             Obella Sand is born

288         11           Greyjoy Rebellion begins

                        **289**

289         1              Ned leaves Winterfell to fight against the Greyjoys

289         3              Arya Stark is born

289         4              Ned visits Starfall during the Greyjoy Rebellion

289         5              Shireen Baratheon is born

289         5              Aaron Dayne is killed in the Battle of Pyke

289         6              Greyjoy Rebellion ends

289         9              Ned returns to Winterfell with Theon Greyjoy

                             **290**

290         1              Lucas Sand is born

290         6              Myrcella, nee Baratheon, is born

290         7              Brandon (Bran) Stark is born

                         **291**

291         9              Tommen, nee Baratheon, is born

                               **292**

292         3              Robert Arryn is born

292         6              Dorea Sand is born

                              **293**

**294**

294         4              Loreza Sand is born

                         **295**

295         10           Rickon Stark is born


	4. Swordplay

“Jon!”  Alysanne had been pounding on his door and calling his name for some minutes, but Jon Sand was far too comfortable to bother leaving his bed.  When she did not tire of trying to rouse his attention, he made to move from the bed.  His movement was stopped by a pair of very strong legs pinning his own to the bed.

“Tyene, I need to answer the door before Alys knocks it down.”  The blonde viper unburied her face from the pillows of Jon’s bed and slowly opened her eyes.  She was by far one of the most enticing women Jon had ever seen, and the first to have entered his bed.  Their trysts had begun a moon past, and he did not like to think upon them ending anytime soon.  She gazed at him with a predatory smile.  “Then she could join us.”

Jon made a face at that.  Tyene’s tastes in bed partners was something that Jon had yet to comprehend.  “I have no interest in sharing my bed with my own sister.”

She shrugged, the silk sheet falling off her body.  “You could watch.”  She laughed merrily and untangled herself from him.  He felt that he could watch Tyene forever, but not with Alys.  He grudgingly got out of the bed and pulled on his trousers before opening the door for his sister.

She pushed her way inside and handed him a paper.  “A letter from father.  He is coming south to be the Hand of the King.”

Jon sat down near the window to read the letter.  “Lord Stark is coming south,” Tyene asked from across the room.  She had yet to bother leaving the bed or covering herself in the slightest.

“He said that he should arrive in King’s Landing in a month’s time,” Alys replied.  “He says that he will visit us a few months after he has been settled in King’s Landing.”

Tyene laughed.  “I am certain that _Lady_ Stark will love that.  Will your father give you yet another brother when he comes to visit?”  Alysanne gaped at the Viper’s daughter.  Tyene stood and found a robe to drape herself in.  “Are you really so shocked Alys?  It seems every time Lord Stark and Lady Ashara meet another Sand is born.”

Jon let out a snorting laugh.  “She is right Alys.  How else to you explain Lucas?”

Alysanne sighed in defeat.  “I am just happy that we can see father again.  Lucas has never met father, and I only barely remember his visit during the Greyjoy Rebellion.”

“We could see father if we ever just rode north to visit.”  That earned derisive looks from Alys and Tyene.

“Oh yes, that would go over well when we pass through the Riverlands.  Oh pay no mind to us, we are just the children of Lord Stark, but not the ones who have Tully blood.  Then we would arrive at the gates of Winterfell after months of travel to find a warm welcome from our father whom we don’t know, our half-siblings whom we have never met, and their mother who surely hates our very existence.”

“I think I would enjoy seeing that,” Tyene gave them her most angelic smile.

“You should ride with us to King’s Landing when our father arrives,” Jon offered.

She shook her head.  “Father has forbidden us from leaving Dorne.”

“And mother has forbidden _us_ from leaving as well.”

Jon gave her a condescending smirk.  “I _have_ left before.  I went with Prince Oberyn to Oldtown just last month.”  Alysanne walked to the bed, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at his head.  He caught the pillow and laughed.  “Don’t blame me for being one of the Prince’s squires.  Mother prefers having all of us here, and as a girl you are like to leave last.”

Tyene tsked at him.  “She has trained beside myself and my sisters.  She wields a sword better than Arthur and rides better than you.  Maybe my father should take her for a squire.”

Alys giggled helplessly at the shock which spread across Jon’s face.  He had not expected his lover to say his sister should replace him at Prince Oberyn’s side.  “He may need to replace me with Jon anyway if he learns what the two of you have been up to lately.”

Tyene tossed her hair over one shoulder casually.  “Father already knows.  He has never been too concerned with whom my sisters or I take as paramours.  If anyone would try to harm us, then they would not live long.”   She took several long strides toward Alysanne.  “I told Jon that you should join us and he refused.”

Alys wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “He’s my brother Tyene, that’s just wrong.”

The blonde gave a defeated sigh.  “It was worth asking.  Will you join me in the training yard later?”

“Of course, I will be there in two hours.  I still need to show the letter to Lucas.”

“I will look forward to our sparring.”  She ran a gentle hand along Alysanne’s arm and gave Jon a parting kiss before leaving the chamber.

Alys rolled her eyes.  “She is incorrigible.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She will leave your bed soon enough for someone else’s.”

Jon knew what his sister was saying was true, but he did not want to think upon the eventual future.  “She is free to do as she pleases, the same as you or I.  Do you think that mother will let us visit father in King’s Landing?”

She shook her head uncertainly, her mass of dark, thick curls waving with the motion.  “I doubt it.  She would tell us to wait here until he comes to visit us.  You know how much she worries after all of us.”

“Her desert wolves.”

“I would like to meet the northern wolves.”

“Snow wolves,” he said with a laugh.

She laughed as well.  “Can you imagine calling our brothers and sisters snow wolves?”

“Their mother would die of embarrassment I think.”  In a mocking, high-pitched tone he added, “ _Snow_ is the northern bastard name and _these_ children are _trueborn_ Starks of Winterfell.”

Her laughter quieted after a while.  “I wonder what they are like.  We only know their names and ages.  We don’t know anything else about them.”

He frowned too.  “They probably don’t know much more about us either.  Here, take the letter and show Lucas.  I have to get dressed and eat before we spar later.”

She took the letter from him and left to find their youngest brother.  Of the four children, Alysanne was the only one with any memory of the man they called father.  She could remember a tall, stern, grey-eyed man who picked her up in his arms and spun her around.  Alys could also remember a man with dark hair and violet eyes.  Mother said that the man with violet eyes was her uncle Arron, Edric’s father.  Both men had been gone from their lives for nine years.

He wrote to them regularly.  They wrote to him just as often, but writing a letter and being held by a father were two very different things.  The men who were their models for how a father should be were Prince Oberyn and Prince Doran Martell.  Oberyn trained Jon and Arthur to exhaustion on a regular basis.  Their intense training showed shown in their skill with sword, lance, and bow.  Alysanne knew that Jon and Arthur would become everything their Uncle Arthur had been.  Doran was kinder and gentler than Oberyn.  He spoke with them for hours when they visited the Water Gardens.  He taught them to play cyvasse when they finally learned to have patience.

That afternoon, Jon, Alysanne, Arthur, Tyene, Edric, Lucas, and Sarella trained in archery and spear-throwing.  Spears were never Tyene’s strong point, but she played willingly for a little while.  Sarella’s throws and arrows never missed the targets, and she won the competition.  Arthur was second best for archery, followed closely by Alysanne and Jon.  Jon was second best with the spear.

Tyene and Sarella merely watched when their shooting and throwing competition ended and the others began to fight with tourney swords.  Edric and Lucas sparred one on one, but the elder three did not.  They had stopped doing one on one sword play years before.  Instead, the eldest three desert wolves fought as a free for all.  Hacking, slashing, dancing, parrying, the three moved in a rhythm that was all their own.  Jon nearly always won their matches, even when Arthur and Alysanne teamed up to defeat their brother.  Jon moved his blade faster and more deftly than any of the rest.  The only sparring partner Jon had who could defeat him regularly was Prince Oberyn.

Alys believed that some day Jon would be the best knight in all the Seven Kingdoms.  She believed that some day songs would be sung about Ser Jon Sand.  He defeated her first and then moved his fight to Arthur.  Suddenly, Edric and Lucas turned from their match and charged toward Jon.  Jon disarmed their cousin, the Lord of Starfall, first.  He quite nearly defeated his remaining brothers, but Lucas tripped him and won the day.  Tyene, Sarella, and Alysanne laughed and clapped for the victory of Lucas and Arthur over Jon.

“You cheated,” he declared with a laugh.

“You’re dead, so you can not complain,” Arthur said with a smirk.

“There is no cheating in a free for all,” Lucas added.

Jon shook his head in defeat.  “Then I will admit defeat, but only for today.”

Arthur reached out a hand and helped Jon off the ground.  “You are still the best sword amongst us.  You just need to learn to be the best sword when the odds are overwhelmingly against you.”

“So I have been told,” he muttered darkly.  “Your father is a harsh task master,” he told Tyene and Sarella.

“We know,” they replied in unison.

Within the month, Tyene and Sarella both left Starfall for whatever adventure next struck their fancy.  Near the end of the month, Lord Beric Dondarrion went north with Edric to participate in the Tournament of the Hand in King’s Landing.  That same evening, the household realized that Jon and Arthur were missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone who has read this so far. I have found the feedback interesting.


	5. Tournaments

Ned hated everything about King's Landing.  He hated the heat.  He hated the politics.  He hated leaving Catelyn and the children.  Even his friend, King Robert, was wearing on him.

He knew that he needed to find answers to Jon Arryn's death.  He needed to know the truth about why someone tried to murder Bran.  Yet truth, it seemed, was nearly impossible to find in King’s Landing.  Littlefinger pointed Ned and Catelyn toward the Lannisters for the attack on Bran.  Truth be told, even Ned found the lions to be suspect.  The problem was a lack of proof.  Yes, they had a knife and a dead assassin, but that was hardly proof enough.

So, to his ever increasing ire, Eddard Stark served as Hand of the King.  Were it his will, he would have gone south to visit his children and then returned home to Winterfell.  Were it his will, his bastards would have been able to visit him at Winterfell.  Out of respect for Catelyn, his children with Ashara would not be permitted to visit Winterfell while Catelyn lived.  He would not pain Catelyn with their presence.  Their very existence hurt her more than he would ever be able to amend.

He had made a thousand mistakes in his relationship with Catelyn Tully, the greatest of those being Lucas Sand.  He had not meant to touch Ashara when he visited Starfall during the Greyjoy Rebellion.  He was there to rest, resupply, and visit the children.  A million excuses for his actions would still just be excuses.  Ashara Dayne was a weakness for him.  A fire filled him whenever they met, and he had never been strong enough to resist her.

He had no reason to resist Ashara at Harrenhal, when he was young and unattached.  They pledged their love and promised marriage.  They made Alysanne in love.

He had not wanted to resist her at Starfall, after the war.  Filled with grief, anger, and loss, they comforted one another.  They kissed, wept, and made love as though they would never touch again.  Arthur, named for the uncle Ned had slain, was made in emotional turmoil.

He had not been strong enough to resist his attraction to her during the Greyjoy Rebellion.  Being near her and the children made him long for the life he could have had.  They made love in the dark of night to hide their sins.  She did not write to him about their newest son until Catelyn was near to term with Bran.  Ned hid the truth for near on a year, until Catelyn found some of the letters regarding Lucas.  Lucas, made in lust, was the rift which would never fully heal between Eddard and Cat.

He could see the hurt and anger flowing through Cat whenever his bastards were mentioned.   So they were rarely ever mentioned, even to his true born children.  Robb, Sansa, and Arya were aware that there were four children in the south who were their half-siblings.  Bran knew to a lesser extent, and Rickon was ignorant to their existence.

Catelyn’s fury had multiplied when he went south, even though it had been at her request and the King’s command. She raged that he would go see his "southern whore".  That was one of the few instances in the whole of their marriage when Ned could recall Cat raising her voice in anger toward him.  He never blamed her for being so angry at him.  He knew that her venom was well deserved.

Somewhere, somehow, amid all the hurt, betrayal, and lies, Eddard Stark had come to love Catelyn Tully.  Ever since Rickon’s birth, he believed that she had truly come to love him as well.  They would smile and laugh together.  She would run a soothing hand across his shoulders in passing when they were too busy with the affairs of the day to speak.  There were days, many days in fact, when Catelyn would call him “my love” for any to hear.  She was a better woman that he would ever deserve.  She was a better woman than his brother Brandon would have deserved, had he lived and wed Cat.  For all the follies Ned had committed, Brandon’s were still notorious.

Then there was Jon.  His sister's son whom he had claimed as his own and then left behind.  Initially, Ned had told himself that he had left Jon purely for the child's safety. While Jon truly was safe with Ashara, from what Ned had seen, and from every letter he had received, a fair amount guilt weighed upon Ned from his choice to leave the boy behind.   Ned came to accept that he had left Jon because he did not want to be reminded of what the child represented.  Jon was the foolishness of Lyanna and the madness of the Targaryens.  Jon was the result of decisions which had taken the lives of Brandon and Rickard Stark.  Jon was the result of decisions which had ripped apart the future Ned had dreamed of with Ashara.

It was all so incredibly wrong.  From the path Lyanna had taken to the decisions Ned had made, there was little good to be seen.  Eddard Stark often wondered if he had truly ever been a good man.  He wondered when he had become the person who hurt everyone whom he loved and who loved him.  The only promise he had kept was to Lyanna, but even that was Ashara's doing.

Today was a matter that Ned found to be a waste of time and money: the Tournament of the Hand, being held in his honor.  Sansa was simply delighted with the idea of a joust.  She adored the tales of knights, tournaments, and heroes.  Ned never wanted to see the day when she would realize how flawed heroes were.  Arya had little interest in the tourney and was planning to spend her days “dancing”.  His youngest daughter had not confessed who had given her Needle, but he strongly suspected Robb of indulging her passion for swords.

* * *

Sansa watched the knights and riders enter the tournament field with joy and wonder.  She recognized the Kingsguard, Lord Royce, her father’s men from Winterfell, and many others.  There were also many riders whom Sansa did not know.  At the very end of the line of riders to enter the field were two riders who wore their helms with their visors down.  Their armor was finely wrought, but bore no emblem.  The shields they carried bore three solid bands, purple and grey divided by white.  “Mystery knights,” everyone seemed to whisper.  Sansa gasped in delight.

Sansa’s attentions were fixed upon Ser Loras Tyrell, and the two mystery knights.  The mystery knights rode as though they were born atop a horse.  Both were swift to unhorse their renowned competitors.  Ser Jaime Lannister finally defeated the shorter of the two mystery knights after four passes on the field.  He fell to the ground with a loud clanging thud.  Sansa clutched her hands to her chest in fear.  Ser Jaime, ever chivalrous, dismounted and offered a hand to his competitor.  Once he was standing, the boy, for indeed he was just a boy of scarce a year or so older than Sansa, removed his helm.

Sansa stared at him long and hard.  He had dark, thick hair, and a long face.  He was too far away for her to make out many details of his looks, but she found him to have a kind face.  He laughed with Ser Jaime for a few moments before limping from the field.  Sansa was glad that the boy was unharmed.  She hoped that he would fight in the other tournaments.  Young men who entered the lists were certain to have songs written of them, she was certain of that.

The other mystery knight succeeded in unhorsing and injuring the Mountain.  In their first pass, the mystery knight slid on his saddle, away from the blow of Ser Gregor.  During their second pass, he hit the massive knight in the arm, and the splintered lance slid up under the armor.  The Mountain fell with a horrendous shout, and blood pouring from beneath his arm.  He walked angrily from the field.  Sansa was glad that he was injured, since he had killed the boy earlier in the day.

Near the day’s end, the final four were known.  Ser Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Ser Loras Tyrell, and the mystery knight would joust on the morrow.  Sansa’s heart was torn between wishing for Ser Loras’s victory or for the gallant mystery knight.

As Sansa and Septa Mordane walked to the feast, they were met by the two mystery knights.  Sansa was certain that the boys were the knights, for she remembered the face of the shorter boy.  Their armor was gone, replaced by plain clothes of grey, white, and violet.

“My lady,” the elder of the boys began.  His appearance was similar to the younger boy, but he was taller and leaner.  His eyes were darker as well, though Sansa could not make out the color of either boy’s eyes in the light of the moon and torches.  “I was told that you are from House Stark?”

Her eyes widened and her pulse quickened.  A mystery knight had asked about her?  She smiled.  “I am Sansa of House Stark.  Are you alright?  I was terribly worried when you fell.”  She addressed her question to the younger of the boys.

He gave her a brief smile, and then winced.  “A few bruises, my lady.  It is nothing to fret over.”

“That’s wonderful,” she exclaimed.  She did not notice her septa’s frown.  “May I ask your names?”

The taller boy grinned.  “Jon.”

“Arthur.”

“Do you have houses?”  Sansa may have been just a young girl, but she could tell that the boys were not just commoners.

“Sansa, it is impolite to ask so many questions,” the septa scolded.  “We are supposed to be at the feast.”

“I... if they don’t want to answer me, then they won’t,” she pouted.

“We are brothers, my lady,” Jon replied, his eyes danced with humor.  “We represent two houses.  I shall win the tournament tomorrow, and tell you more then.”  They bowed politely to her and then took their leave.  With all her heart, Sansa wished to know whom the boys truly were.

* * *

The tales of two mystery knights riding in the tournament was all that anyone was speaking about the next morning before Eddard arrived at King Robert’s tent.  Even Robert mentioned them when he asked Ned whom he thought the victor would be.  “Mystery knights, here!  I thought that nonsense ended ages ago!”

Ned shook his head.  “As long as there are young men trying to prove something, there will be tournaments and mystery knights.”

The king laughed.  “You’re right there Ned!  The one the kingslayer knocked down was young boy.  Probably thinks he’s the next Barristan the Bold!”

“How old is he?”

The king took a swig of ale and laughed heartily.  “Twelve or so, old enough to think himself a hero and too young to know better.  The other one might be older, but he never took off his helm where anyone could see.  Injured Gregor Clegane fairly well too.  I am sure Tywin Lannister will not be pleased to hear how his lapdog was wounded.”

Ned could not honestly say that he felt any amount of pity for the man who was called the Mountain.  Especially not after he had killed Ser Hugh of the Vale.  A fear crept inside, tugging at the worry in his mind.  There was one house in particular that would have a vendetta against Gregor Clegane, the same house that his sons squired for, House Martell.  “What colors did they wear?”

He scratched at his beard for a moment.  “Purple, white, and grey, banded on their shields.”

Ned swore loud enough to shock his oldest friend.  “They’re my sons.”

“Sons?”

“My bastards.”

Recognition dawned upon Robert’s face.  “The children with Lady Ashara?  Are they truly old enough to be fighting in a tournament?”

In Ned’s opinion, they were not, but he had given full responsibility of the children to Ashara.  “It seems that they believe so.”

He laughed at Ned’s gravity.  “I’ll never understand how you were lucky enough to get between her legs.  Lucky Ned!  Two of the most beautiful women in the world and they chose you!”

Lucky was not the word Ned would have used to describe the path his life had taken.  “Catelyn married me because her father willed it.  Ashara...”  He had felt like he was walking on air when he first met Ashara.  She had been the bold one, and he had been shy.  They danced together for hours.  They talked, they laughed, and they kissed.  There were moments when she was the most proper woman he had ever met and moments when she was completely scandalous.  By the end of the tournament, they promised to wed and had made love at least ten times.  “Ashara and I were young and believed that love was all that mattered.”

“Married to the wrong woman.”

“I never said that.  I love Cat.  She is a far better woman than I deserve.”

“But she wasn’t want you wanted nor what you were supposed to have, like me.”

Ned nodded solemnly, but did not truly agree. Yes, had everyone lived and married whom they were supposed to marry, then Robert would have married Lyanna, Brandon would have married Cat, and Ned could have married Ashara.  In truth, Lyanna, however much Robert adored her, would never have married him.  If Rhaegar had not come along she would have found someone else to run away with, of that Ned was certain.  That was Lyanna, his beautiful, willful sister.

Ashara and Catelyn were nothing like Lyanna.  Between the two, Ashara was the more impulsive, the less proper, but she still understood propriety.  He had only bedded her once they promised to wed.  Catelyn was a duty, honor, and loyalty.  She married whom her father chose.  She did not complain when life was not what she had chosen.  After so many years with Catelyn, it was her that he wanted at the end of the day, until the day he died.  He would most likely have loved Ashara just as deeply, but that did not mean he had married the wrong woman.

“You have any other bastards in that frozen North of yours?”

He shook his head.  How many times had Cat asked him that very question?  “No, I have five children with Catelyn and thre... four with Ashara.”  He had not counted Jon, to his panic.  “I have not met Lucas, so I do forget to count him sometimes.  How many are you up to?”  He questioned the king with a grin, and Robert burst out laughing.

“Only the gods know that answer Ned!”

They spent the rest of the morning joking and reminiscing about their youth in the Eyrie.  By the time Eddard arrived at the tournament, Sansa’s attention was fixed solely upon the riders.  Would his daughter adore the mystery knight as much if she knew that he was one of the boys her mother despised?  He shook the thought from his mind as Jon took the field against Loras Tyrell.

The Knight of Flowers was skilled, and won the adoration of the crowd with his silver armor which dazzled with sapphires.  Jon’s armor was plain and well fashioned.  It was his riding that took everyone, including Ned’s, breath away.  The boy rode his sand steed as though they were one with the wind.  They struck blows on the first pass, but neither was unhorsed.  Ned grasped the armrests of his chair so hard that it felt as though the wood was like to splinter.  This was Lyanna’s son, he did not want the boy injured.

On the second pass, Jon hit Ser Loras’s shield hard enough that his lance splintered and the Tyrell boy’s shield cracked.  Sansa gasped in fear.  She adored Loras Tyrell for the rose he had given her, and adored the mystery knight for the sake of his being a mystery knight.

They led their horses around for a third pass.  Both men hunched low in their seats, holding their lances true.  Jon hit his opponent’s shield in the same spot as before, and the Knight of Flowers flipped backward off of his horse, landing on his back.  Sansa held one hand to her heart and the other to her mouth, quite nearly in tears.  Jon dismounted, gave a hand to the other boy, and Loras stood.  The roar of the crowd was enormous, as the two men walked off the field for the next match.

The match was close between Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane.  The Hound rode hard and fast.  Lannister rode just as well, and in the end it was the Kingslayer who won the round.

Ned’s stomach churned at the sight of the Kingslayer riding against Jon.  What would Lannister do if he knew who the boy he was riding against really was?  Would he kill Jon on the spot?  Would he bend the knee to the son of the Prince whom he had once served?  Ned wished that Jon had never come to King’s Landing.  His presence was dangerous, too dangerous.

As the two men broke lance after lance against one another, Ned could see the ghosts who rode with Jon.  With him was the impulsive spirit that inhabited Brandon and Lyanna.  With him was Rhaegar’s finesse.  With him was Arthur Dayne’s skill.  With him was Oberyn Martell’s training.  On their sixth pass, Jon feinted with his lance, changing its positioning at the last moment and knocking Ser Jaime clean off his mount.

The cheer from the crowd was deafening.  As he had done with Ser Loras, Jon dismounted and offered his hand to his opponent.  The men shook hands after Lannister was standing, and Jon removed his helm.  The boy was grinning, and Ser Jaime laughed at the words which passed between the two.  They walked together the stands.

“A new Barristan the Bold,” Ser Jaime announced when they were close enough to be heard by Ned and Robert.  “He has yet to tell me his name, but said that he had to unhorse me to avenge his younger brother.”

Jon’s dark grey eyes shown his amusement.  Ned could still see traces of the young boy he had met years before in his face.  There were traces of both his parents in his face, though Ned knew what to look for to see Rhaegar in Jon.  “My name is Jon, your grace,” he told the king.  “I wanted to win today for my father, your Lord Hand.”

Ned could see Sansa’s eyes widen in shock as she looked between himself and Jon.  Lannister’s face was such a display of surprise that Ned wanted to laugh aloud.  Instead, Ned stood and took a few steps toward the boy who called him father.  “You rode well today Jon.  Where is your brother Arthur?”

Jon grinned sheepishly.  “With Lord Dondarrion.  We were not supposed to leave Dorne, but we wanted to meet you.  Alys will be furious.  Lord Dondarrion is aunt Allyria’s betrothed, and Edric is his squire.  He noticed us yesterday, so we are staying in his tents.  He would have sent us back to Dorne, but we told him that we would not leave before seeing you.”

With a laugh and a shake of his head, Ned embraced the young man.  “It is a pleasure to see you.  Sansa, I would like you to meet Jon Sand, one of your half-brothers.”

The girl stood, and gave a polite curtsey.  “It is a pleasure to meet you, again.  You and Arthur ride well.”

He gave her a bow.  “You have my thanks, dear sister.  My brothers, sister, and I have looked forward to meeting our northern brothers and sisters for many years.”

She stared wide eyed at him for several moments before forming a reply.  “We do not speak much of you at Winterfell.  Mother gets angry.  Sometimes father allows us to read letters that each of you has written.  Will you and Arthur participate in the other competitions today?”

The fear that had been subsiding gripped Ned’s heart again, when Jon affirmed her question.  “We both plan to participate in the archery and melee competitions.  Arthur is the best archer in Dorne, and I have yet to meet a better sword than myself,” Jon boasted.

Ser Jaime, who had moved beside the King, heard the boast and laughed.  “Then you have not held a sword against me.”

A hint of anger flashed through Jon’s eyes.  “I bested you with a lance.  Fight in the melee and prove those words.”

He gave a smile but shook his head.  “Not today, but maybe one day we can spar against each other.”

“I will look forward to that day, good ser.”

Their words ended, and the whole assembly walked together to the archery grounds.  Sansa stood quietly by her father’s side, her revelry more subdued.  Sure enough, Arthur Sand was the best archer of the day, narrowly besting a young man named Anguy from the Dornish Marches.

To Ned’s terror, and even Sansa’s trembling, both boys competed in the melee.  It was a long, brutal match.  Fingers were broken, cuts were given, and the two boys who called Ned father swung their swords with ease.  While many of the men grunted and snarled, the desert wolves laughed.  Again, Eddard could see the ghosts who fought beside the boys.  Prince Rhaegar and Ser Arthur Dayne, side by side, cutting down their foes.  They fought well, but in the end it was Thoros of Myr who won the melee.

Afterward, the boys were given seats at the feast, as victors of the joust and archery contests, as well as being the sons of the Hand of the King.  Eddard was certain that there would be issues with his bastards having seats at the high table, so their seats were arranged amongst the lesser guests at the feast.  Upon having refreshed themselves, Ned and his four children withdrew to a private area to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this story, Needle is a gift from Robb to Arya. Ghost does not exist.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading and following and commenting!


	6. Beginnings

Sansa and Arya were rather subdued throughout the feast.  The knowledge that their half-brothers were present was rather distracting.  Arya even forgot her pride over the bruise on her leg which she had received during her dancing lessons with Syrio.  She picked at her food, anxious to meet half of the siblings which she had never met. What were they like? Did they want to meet her?  Would they like a little sister who wasn’t pretty, had messy hair, and could wield a sword?  Or would they only like Sansa, pretty, perfect Sansa?

When the feast was nearing its conclusion, their father asked them to come with him.  They walked quietly behind him, knowing that he was leading them to their brothers.  Arya twisted her skirt in her hands.  The boys stood up from the table before they were close, and approached with smiles.

Their father turned to introduce Arya when they were all together.  “Jon, Arthur, I would like you to meet your youngest sister, Arya.”

The taller boy, Jon, resembled father, and herself.  Arthur did not have the same long, Stark face, but still somewhat resembled a Stark, more than most of Arya’s full blooded brothers and sister.  “It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Arya,” Jon greeted with a smile.

“I’m not a lady,” she spat, quickly but not unkindly.  Sansa looked mortified, but Arya could swear that she saw a twinkle in her father’s eyes.  The boys laughed.

“She’s our sister alright,” Arthur chuckled.  “She looks like you did when we were children.  Although she is much prettier than you are.”

 “Of course our sisters our beautiful,” Jon replied.  “From every account, our mother and theirs are two of the most beautiful in all of Westeros.”

Arya’s eyes went wide.  People never called her beautiful, with the exception of father, but he did not count.  Sansa blushed prettily beside her; she was never one to avoid compliments.  Their father cleared his throat.  “I was hoping that we might all speak more privately.”

“Of course father,” Jon responded.  “Lord Dondarrion’s tents are nearby, and that is where Arthur and I are staying.”

Jon took Sansa’s arm, and Arthur took Arya’s as they walked toward the tents.  Forgotten was any apprehension Arya had about meeting her half-siblings.  Arya quickly discovered that Arthur had a talent for making her laugh.  She had been quiet and serious until he began to make the most ridiculous faces at her.

Brothers, two more brothers to get to know.  Arya had known about her half-siblings for a few years, and had written to them irregularly.  Meeting them however, was not something she had really considered.  Mother never wanted them to be mentioned, so they seldom were ever spoken about.  Arya always assumed that they could never come to Winterfell.  Arya wondered why her mother hated her half-brothers and half-sister so much.  Arya also wondered why her mother hated crooked stitches, torn dresses, and Arya wanting to fight with swords.

They arrived at Lord Beric’s tents a short time later and were greeted warmly by the guards of Houses Dayne and Dondarrion.  Jon led them all into one of the large tents.  There were two chairs in the tent, which the girls were offered and accepted.  Jon and Arthur took seats upon one cot and Lord Stark sat upon another cot.

“Welcome to our temporary home,” Arthur announced as he sat.  “Why were you not around to watch our games today and yesterday?”

Arya flushed.  She had been practicing with Syrio, something which Sansa did not know about.  “I... I have dancing lessons.”

“What sort of dance do you learn,” Jon inquired.

“Braavosi Water Dancing.”  To her horror, both of the boys laughed.  Sansa regarded them strangely, uncertain of why they were laughing.

“That is a type of dance we know well,” Jon replied.  “Tell me, are a fast learner?”

Arya beamed.  “I think so, most days anyway.  Syrio is a good trainer.  He is teaching me how to see, really see, what people are doing.  He is teaching me to be a sword.”

“A sword,” Sansa questioned in confusion.

Arya clapped a hand over her mouth as the boys laughed and their father smiled.  “Braavosi Water Dancing is a style of sword fighting,” he answered.

It was Sansa’s turn to cover her mouth in shock.  “Arya, I am betrothed to the Prince!  What would people think if they knew my sister was learning to use a sword?”

“Sweetling, I am the one who hired her trainer.  If your sister is happy and you are happy, then I am content.  I do not concern myself with the whisperers in the court.  They spend far too much time gossiping and far too little time concerning themselves with their own problems.”

“Yes father,” she murmured in reply.

They shifted in awkward silence for a few moments before Arthur broke the ice again.  “Arya, would you like to practice with our cousin Edric?  He is not much older than yourself and is also trained in that style of sword fighting.”

“Yes!  I mean, may I father?”

“As long as Lord Beric is amenable to the idea of his squire joining you I see no harm in the idea.”

“Thank you.”

“Edric trains with our brother Lucas.  Jon and I train with our sister Alysanne.”

“Alysanne fights with a sword,” Arya asked.

“She’s almost as good as Jon.  Have no fear Sansa, she is also a lady.”

Sansa’s cheeks nearly matched the color of her hair.  “I did not mean to offend anyone.”

“There is no offense sweet sister,” Jon offered.  “I am certain that our Dornish ways are quite unusual to our northern kindred.  We would, love to know both of you more, and have wished for many years to meet you and our brothers.”

“I’m glad that you are here,” Arya responded before an uncomfortable silence fell again.  “I miss my brothers.  Bran woke up, but he wasn’t able to say goodbye to us when we left Winterfell.”

The boys tensed.  “What happened,” they asked as one.

Lord Stark’s lips pressed together in a grim line.  “He fell from one of the towers of Winterfell.  He was unconscious for some time, but has now awoken.  He will never be able to walk again.”

Arthur looked between his father and sisters.  “I am terribly sorry to hear that.  Hopefully we may meet him as well one day.”

Their father’s answer was not the most positive of replies.  “We will see what can be done my son,” was all he said.

Arthur inclined his head somewhat sadly, but pressed on.  “All of you, and our brothers, are welcome to visit us at Starfall whenever you wish.  As future Queen, it would be good for you to become acquainted with Dorne.”

Sansa’s normally impeccable manners were not quite made for her present situation.  She stared, wide-eyed, at her half-brothers for some time.  “I believe that you are correct.  It would be a pleasure to visit Dorne and Starfall, whenever father believes is appropriate.”

It was their father’s turn to shift awkwardly in his seat.  “We will discuss that later.”

The night wore on in much the same manner.  They spoke in short bursts and then faded into uncomfortable silence.  When Lord Beric arrived with Edric, the conversation was easier and less focused on their unusual family situation and more on swords and Dorne.  In the end it was decided that Lord Dondarrion and the boys would remain in King’s Landing for a few more weeks so that they might all spend time with one another.  The following morning they settled into an inn near the Red Keep.

Their time of peacefully getting acquainted was rather short lived.  Two days after the Tournament of the Hand ended, word reached King’s Landing that Tyrion Lannister was being held captive by Catelyn Stark.  That same evening, Ser Jaime Lannister attacked Lord Stark and his men.  All of men who had been accompanying Lord Eddard that day were killed, and Ned’s leg was broken.  If not for Lord Beric and Vayon Poole, Arthur and Jon would have chased after Ser Jaime when he fled the city.  Instead, they waited beside their father’s bed until he awoke.  Every day they trained harder than ever, and swore to kill the Kingslayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 was revised on/about the first of the month. Just a few changes to improve the paragraph flows.


	7. Nothing is Simple

They shared the mid-day meal as they had every year for nearly fifteen years.  While Ashara Dayne and Oberyn Martell ate many meals together throughout the year, one day of the year was different from all the others.  Elia's nameday was their special day to meet with one another, to reflect and remember the one who had been taken from them.  They always met in the same room that day of the year.  The room was modestly sized, with a large balcony overlooking the orchards and the sea beyond.  There was no room in Starfall that Elia Martell had loved more.

"Why did Ellaria not come with you this time," Ashara asked as she stirred her soup.  Across the table sat Prince Oberyn, sipping wine from a silver goblet.

He lowered the cup and sighed.  "She prefers to leave me to my own devices on this day.  When you and I reminisce, she feels out of place.  She does not share our history, and she never met my sister."

Ashara bowed her head with understanding.  "I worried that she was more concerned with your affection for me."

He favored her with a throaty laugh.  "She understands my ways, just as you do."

"Yes, but she is bastard born and I am not.  What would your sister think of what I am now I wonder?"

"She would bid us marry, of that I am certain."

"A woman with so many bastards?" She smirked mischievously.

"To a man with so many bastards, a perfect match."  They laughed heartily and he reached across the table to hold her hand.  "She should still be here with us."

Her smile dropped, replaced by a tangible sorrow.  "I still miss her.  I remember the first time the two of you came here.  The way the three of us ran through the castle and orchards.  I believe that our mothers were somewhere between amused and horrified at our antics.  Then they sequestered us in here one day.”  She looked around the room, remembering their youth.  “I can still remember her laughter in this room.  She loved the scent of the lemon trees mixing with the salt air.  Even when we were on Dragonstone she would talk about how much she loved this room.”

“We will avenge her soon.”  His black eyes narrowed.  His voice was hushed and low.  She pulled her hand from his and stood.  She walked stiffly to the balcony, he followed behind her.

“You mean to use my sons to avenge her.”  She crossed her arms at her chest and stared firmly at the horizon.

He ran a hand along her back, from neck to waist.  “Jon is not your son,” he hissed in her ear.

“He _is_ my son.  _I_ sang him to sleep.  _I_ kissed his bruises. _I_ watched over him when he was sick.”  She turned to face him, eyes blazing.  “Do _not_ tell me that he is not mine.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her tightly. “He will be our king one day.  That has always been the plan.  I have trained your sons to be warriors and they will fight the coming war.  Their running away to King’s Landing proves that they are ready.”

“All that it proves is that they wanted to meet their father and sisters.   They are young and impulsive.  Even if they are ready to fight a war, is the rest of Westeros?  Can you guarantee that Dorne would have enough support?  Patience...”

“I am weary of patience.  Too long has the blood of my sister and niece and nephew cried out for vengeance.  Do you not feel their loss?  Every night I hear their screams for justice.  Do you not hear their cries?”

Tears spilled slowly from her eyes.  “Can the blood of Arthur and Jon in battle bring justice for the murders of Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon?  Would your death in battle bring justice?  If Dorne raises its banners alone we would all die.  Martell and Dayne would be extinguished.”

“Would not your precious Ned protect you and your children?”  He smiled cruelly at her and held her arms still, though she struggled to free herself from his grip.

Her eyes narrowed.  “He would do his best.”

“A man who has not seen his children or you in near a decade.  Why you have so much faith in him I will never understand.”

“He would have married me if the rebellion never happened.”

“So he told you.  How a man so boring charmed his way to your virtue...”

“Stop it!  You met Ned in passing seventeen years ago.  He was the only man I have ever met who wanted to know me.  A hundred men looked at me and only wanted my body.  He looked at me and wanted my heart.”

He released a hand from her shoulder and ran it along her cheek, brushing away her tears with the motion.  “And me?”

She laughed.  “You stole my first kiss when I was fourteen years old and you insisted that we still play in the Water Gardens.”

He grinned salaciously at her.  “I would have stolen more if Elia had not found us.”

“She scolded you quite soundly if I recall.”

“She forbade me from ever trying to _dishonor_ you.”

“You never have,” she breathed, holding his piercing gaze.

He pulled her close and kissed her hard.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as his hands ran the length of her back.  Eventually they pulled apart, lust filling their eyes.  She took his hand and led him from the room to her chambers at the end of the corridor.  It was their way of remembering and forgetting, as it had been for fifteen years.

The first time they had shared a bed, Ashara had been several months pregnant with Arthur.  Ashara had never seen her trysts with Oberyn to be out of love, though they did care for one another.  There was a certain sense of comfort Ashara drew from her closeness to the Red Viper of Dorne.  If either of them had lived their lives according to how their parents would have wished, there was a fair chance that they would have been wed.  However with her four bastards and his eight, neither of them were seen as being marriable.  Not that either had any particular interest in marriage in their present situations.

Some time later, when they were still abed, their conversation turned back to the children.  She lay on her stomach, stretched across the bed.  He sat beside her, running a lazy hand along her spine.

“Alys needs to visit Sunspear soon, though I am considering waiting to have her go until the boys return.”

“Why does she need to go?”

“We are trying to broker a contract with one of the spice merchants.  I allow her to handle most of the affairs of Starfall.  Until Edric is of age and weds or until she weds, there is much she can learn by overseeing the family business.”

“Including your trade agreements.”

She made a sleepy, affirmative sound.  “Only with new contracts.  I sit with her when we renegotiate with our current merchants.  In a few years Edric will attend those meetings as well.  Typically I have one or both of the boys go with her, but as they are away.”

“Would you like me to go with her?”

She turned so that faced him and smiled.  “If you wish, my prince.”

He laughed and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.  “I could bring Jon and Arthur back from King’s Landing instead.”

“And let everyone believe that you are trying to provoke a war?  We received a letter a few days past that they are safely in Lord Beric’s custody and visiting with Lord Stark.  I do not believe that it would be wise for you to retrieve them.”

“Nor would my brother.  Were I to travel to the capitol, my brother would likely believe that I went to kill the king.”

Her brow raised and she her lips twisted into a smirk.  “I would think it as well.”

“Does everyone believe that I thirst so deeply for blood?”

“From Dorne to the Wall, all men know that Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne has an unquenchable thirst for many things.  From blood to wine to women, you are always ever craving.”  She wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him.  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her breathless.

“I would return your sons without bloodshed,” he murmured into her neck once their kisses slowed.

“I would rather you protect my daughter.”

“Have you seen her with a sword,” he scoffed.  “She could kill any man who dared to lay a hand on her.”

“She is my firstborn, and my only daughter.”

He smoothed her hair and tucked several loose strands behind her ears.  “Have I ever treated your children as anything less than my own?”

“Never.”

“And I never will.”

* * *

Alysanne rode her horse along the coast shortly after daybreak.  There was no feeling that she loved more than the wind whipping against her face as she raced her sandsteed along the beach and headlands.  There was no feeling that she hated more than brushing her hair out after her morning rides.  She longed for the thin, easy to manage hair that was common among the Dornish, but her hair was as northern as her father.

She was packed for her journey to Sunspear to negotiate with spice traders from the Summer Isles.  She knew that the negotiations would only last a few days, and that they were important for increasing her family’s wealth and status.  House Dayne was among the wealthiest families in Dorne, and by far the oldest, it was their goal and desire to become a trade center in western Dorne.  Yet it was not to Sunspear that she longed to go, but to King’s Landing to see her father and half-sisters.

She was jealous that her brothers had left her behind when they packed their swords and armor and fled to see their father.  She was angry that they had not told her of their plans.  Furious that they had not taken her with them.  She should have known that they would try to meet their father.  She should have thought to run to him as well.

She saw the ravens flying to the maester’s tower when she was nearly back at the gates of Starfall.  The black birds stood out starkly against the white of the spires of her home.  She rode swiftly across the causeway which ran between the mainland and the island upon which Starfall was built.

She slowed her pace as she passed beneath the entry gates of the castle.  Already there were men and women milling about the castle grounds to perform their duties.  They greeted her with polite nods of the head before continuing on their ways.  She made her way to the stables, where she dismounted and led her stallion to his stall.

“How was your ride my lady,” Andrey asked, as she was loosening the many belts from her mount.  Andrey was grey and long bearded, with few teeth and countless wrinkles, but his eyes and mind were still sharp.  He was their stable master, and had been so for many long years.

“Refreshing,” she replied with a smile, her violet eyes dancing with merriment.  “There is nothing in this world as wonderful as riding at daybreak on a sunny day.”

He smiled back at her, the many gaps in his teeth proudly displayed.  “Aye, can’t disagree with you on that.  I’ll get your travel mounts ready for your departure with Prince Oberyn later today.  Just be careful, it’s like to be very hot today.”

“Thank you.  I will make certain that we do not exhaust the horses.”

She walked from the stables to the main castle at a leisurely pace.  She went over the things she needed to accomplish before leaving.  Other than her goodbyes to her mother, aunts, and brother, she needed to send off a few letters and change into her travel clothes.  She was close upon her rooms when her aunt Allyria found her.

Allyria’s brown hair hung loose about her shoulders.  Her blue-violet eyes were wide with worry.  “There you are.  You need to speak with your mother right away.”

“What is wrong?”

She shook her head.  “A raven came bearing ill news.  Come with me.”

Allyria turned and strode quickly down the hall which led to their family solar.  Alysanne followed quickly behind her.  She could feel panic gripping her heart.  She had no idea what news they could have received, but her thoughts flew directly to her brothers.

When they entered the family solar, her mother was seated at the desk, holding a letter in her hands.  She was wiping at tears which were falling from her eyes.  Her aunt Marissa was sewing quietly beside her.  Prince Oberyn paced behind them, eyes blazing with anger.  His hands twitched at his side, reaching for swords that were not strapped to his body.

“Take a seat,” Ashara said, looking up.  Allyira and Alysanne both sat near her.  Ashara passed the letter to her daughter and rested her face in her hands.

Alysanne read the letter slowly, trying to understand everything Lord Beric had said.  There was a conflict in the Riverlands between Houses Lannister and Tully, brought about by Lady Catelyn Stark holding Tyrion Lannister custody in the Vale.  Ser Jaime Lannister, in retaliation had attacked Lord Stark’s men and Lord Stark himself.  Lord Stark was unconscious and his leg was broken.  Jon and Arthur were retained in King’s Landing, though they had considered chasing after the Kingslayer.

“I will go to King’s Landing,” Oberyn muttered when Alysanne looked up from the letter.

“That will be seen as an act of war,” Ashara replied sharply.

“There is already war, my lady.  The boys are my squires and subjects of my brother.  They will fight a war for Lord Stark and I will lead them as I always have.”

Ashara bit her lip and looked down at her hands.  She said no more.

“I will ride with Prince Oberyn to retrieve my brothers and see that our father is well,” Alys said firmly.  “We are children of House Stark.  It is our duty to support our father.  The Lannisters attacked us.  It is our duty to respond in kind.”

“Alys,” her mother began, concern showing in her tones.

“I am the eldest child of Lord Eddard Stark,” Alysanne nearly shouted as she stood.  “It is my duty to defend the honor of my houses.  My brothers are there, my sisters.  I will not stand by while our family is attacked!”

Ashara turned her gaze from her daughter to Prince Oberyn.  “It seems that you have turned all of my children into warriors.”  She turned back to her daughter, weary.  “Be safe my love.  My heart would never mend if I lost you or your brothers.”

Alys walked to her mother and embraced her tightly.  “I will keep them safe.”

Ashara laid a gentle hand on her daughter’s face.  “I need someone to keep you safe.”

Oberyn laid a hand on Ashara’s shoulder and the other on Alysanne’s back.  “I will keep her safe.  I promise.”  He pulled away and strode to the door.  “Meet me at the stables in an hour Alys.  Ashara, wait three days after our departure to send word to my brother and daughters if you send word by raven.  If you have a man that you trust completely, send him to my brother today explaining everything.  I will make no move on behalf of Dorne that Doran does not sanction, but I am not a patient man.”

The Prince swept out of the room a moment later, ready for blood and battle.

“We will come back mother, safe and whole, I swear it.”

Ashara squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alysanne left the room a few moments later.  She hurried to her rooms and changed from her morning riding dress into her travel linens and leathers.  Her handmaids brushed through her hair and wove it into a tight braid.  When she was ready, she made her way down to the courtyard of the castle.  Already waiting were Prince Oberyn and twenty guards of Houses Martell and Dayne.  Her mother, aunts, and little brother were waiting in the courtyard as well.  She hugged her mother and aunts goodbye, and then knelt before her brother.

“I will be back soon,” she said as she embraced him.

He looked to the ground, his dark purple eyes heavy with tears.  “Mom said that our father is hurt.  Will he be ok?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that he will do everything in his power to be ok so that he can meet you.”  She stood, kissing the top of his head on her way up, and walked toward the waiting men.

Their horses were brought out, already saddled and loaded with supplies.  They mounted their steeds and rode forth through the gates of Starfall.  Alysanne and Oberyn led the men down the causeway and then northward to the Red Mountains of Dorne.  From there they would travel north and east, to King’s Landing and uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to you, my lovely readers for the support you give me.
> 
> Marissa is the name I have given to Edric's mother, she is unnamed in canon.
> 
> I have never written Oberyn before, so I hope that I did him justice.


	8. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of this chapter is focused on several Ned/Arya/Sansa chapters of Game of Thrones, a few lines of dialogue are adapted directly from the book.
> 
> Thank you all for your support!

“I promise... Lya, I promise.”  Lord Eddard muttered the words in his sleep.  Vayon Poole was trying to wake him.  Ned had been asleep for six days and seven nights.  His fever had broken, but his leg would take a very long time to heal.

When Ned opened his eyes, Vayon gave him water to drink and informed him that the king wanted to see him immediately.  When Vayon left to summon the captain of Ned’s guard and the king, Ned noticed that Jon was sleeping in a corner of the room, his hand on a sword.  At least, Ned had thought he was asleep until the boy opened his eyes wide at the sound of the door closing.

“Father,” he said softly, “Are you well?”

Ned observed the boy quietly for a few moments.  His mind was still reeling from his dream of Rhaegar’s tower of joy.  So many had died at that tower.  The Kingsguard had died to defend their infant king, even from his own blood.   _Lyanna’s son.  Did I fail you Lya?  Is that why I have dreamt this dream again?_ Jon had her eyes.  He had her hair. He had her spirit. _He was raised well Lya.  Ashara did not fail you even though I did._

“Father?”  His eyes were wide with concern.  He walked to the bed and held Ned’s hand tight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied quietly.  “How are Arthur and your sisters?”

“Sansa is worried, she prays for your health.  Arya is quiet until she is training with Syrio.  She is angry, we are all angry.  Arthur and I wanted to avenge the wrongs of the Kingslayer against our family.  Lord Beric and your men forced us to remain here.”

“For that I am thankful.  You might have met your death if you had followed after the Kingslayer.”  _And if you die... Lya, even in death I do not believe you would forgive me if your son were to die._ “Now, please leave me before the King arrives.  I will speak with you after he leaves.”

The boy bowed his head respectfully.  “Yes father.”

As Jon was leaving, Alyn entered the room.  Alyn was now the captain of Eddard’s guard since Jory Cassel had been murdered at Jaime Lannister’s orders.  He informed Ned that he had increased the guard on the household.  Lord Beric and his men were now housed within the Tower of the Hand, adding their strength to Eddard’s guard.  The bodies of the men who had died at the hands of the Lannister guards had been given to the silent sisters.  Ned was still speaking with Alyn when Vayon returned, informing him that the king and queen were outside the room.  Ned’s men left shortly before Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister entered.

Cersei wanted his Ned’s head for daring to take actions against a member of her family.  Ned wanted Jaime Lannister’s head for the attack against himself and his men.  Robert Baratheon, the great King of Westeros, wanted an end to it.  Three Stark men and five Lannister men had died in the fighting, the King found that to be equitable.  He struck the queen in anger and told Ned to take up the office of Hand again.  Yet he refused to speak on any matter of importance.  He insisted that he would go hunting the following day.

The King and half of the court left for the hunt within two days.  Thus it was left to Ned, restored to his position as Hand of the King, to hold court in King Robert’s name.  After a few days of sitting in court, listening to petitioners while his leg throbbed painfully as he sat upon the most uncomfortable chair in existence, men arrived from the Riverlands.  They told of a band of men ravaging small towns in the Riverlands.  The band was led by a man whose description could only match the Mountain.  It stood to reason that Lord Tywin Lannister had sent out the men to fight against the Riverlands in response to Lady Catelyn taking Tyrion Lannister hostage.  Ned felt his leg throbbing in pain as he listened to the pleas.

The Lannisters wanted to bloody the Tullys because the Tullys had taken a Lannister hostage.  Would the bloodshed never end?  Ned was weary of wars.  He had been weary of wars since his youth.

He decided to send a party of men to seek out Gregor Clegane and bring him to justice.  He trusted Lord Beric, and would have sent the Lord of Blackhaven if he did not fear Jon and Arthur riding out with him.  Ned could not and would not allow the two boys to ride out to war, they were too young, too precious.

Young Loras Tyrell was the first man to volunteer, though he was more of a boy than a man.  Ned hesitated send the boy, but he did not doubt the boy’s skill or desire to fight.  In the end, Ned relented and agreed to send Loras Tyrell.  Ned also sent Thoros of Myr, Ser Gladden Wylde, and Lord Lothar Mallery.  All of the men were to gather twenty fighters to leave with Ser Marq Piper and Ser Karyl Vance in order to deliver the King’s justice.  Ned sent twenty of his own men to join with them.  He hoped that the decision was wise.  He hoped that they would bring justice.  He hoped that they could bring peace.  He was not certain, but he had learned long ago that there were no certainties in life.

He found himself wanting to send his children from the city.  He wanted to send them away from the threat of violence and war.  The girls would be safe at home in Winterfell.  Jon and Arthur would be safe back in Dorne.  Yet it tore at his heart to think of separating the children, again.  Although their initial meeting had been uncomfortable, the girls and their half-brothers were getting along well.  He often saw them speaking and laughing with one another.  The boys seemed to be helping to heal the horrific rift which had formed between Sansa and Arya after Lady’s death.

He found a growing wish in his heart that all of the children could be together.  He was certain that all of his boys would get along well.  Certainly Jon and Arthur would be better influences upon Robb than Theon Greyjoy.  He knew that his dream was impossible.  He knew that Catelyn would never allow Ashara’s children in Winterfell or allow her own to travel to Starfall.  He did not even know that Ashara would allow Catelyn’s children to visit Starfall.

His other issue of sending the children home was finding a safe route for them to travel.  The Kingsroad would not be safe now that the banners of Tully and Lannister were called to arms.  He would need to send the girls to Winterfell by boat, though finding a trustworthy captain would take time.  So he would bide his time.  At worst, he could send his daughters to Dorne.  He had entrusted Lady Ashara with Jon’s safety, he believed that she could keep his daughters safe as well.

* * *

They rode on Dornish sand steeds, the fastest horses in the world.  They did not tire as common horses were wont to do, maintaining a quick and steady gait for nearly two days, even when their riders were resting.  The ride still took fifteen days from Starfall to King’s Landing at the rate they travelled.  With lesser horses, the journey would have been considerably longer.  They changed horses at Blackmont, Nightsong, and Blackhaven, entrusting their own horses to their fellow Dornish.

They passed through the Red Mountains and into the Dornish Marches, the green sloping hills on the outermost border of Dorne.  The land grew greener and melted into the gently rolling hills which were shared by the Reach and Stormlands.  They rode hard and swift, anxious to know what more had transpired in King’s Landing.

Prince Oberyn led the party with determination.  He decided when they rested and what trails they would follow.  They did not take the Roseroad.  Oberyn preferred the riding paths which led from the Boneway to King’s Landing.  The paths were well used, worn by travelers heading north throughout the centuries.

Alysanne rode close beside Oberyn, out pacing Daemon Sand, one of the Prince’s squires.  She would have ridden faster than Oberyn if she had the slightest idea of how to reach King’s Landing.  Not knowing the way, she instead rode beside the Prince.

As anxious as she was to see her family in the capital, she did find herself enjoying the landscape of the lands beyond Dorne.  The farthest north she had ever been before their journey to King’s Landing was Highgarden and that had been when she was still a young girl.  She had vague memories of flowers and high white walls.  More recently she had travelled to Blackhaven, in the Dornish Marches, for her aunt Allyria’s betrothal to Lord Dondarrion.  The rest of her time, she and her siblings had remained within the main regions of Dorne.  They had travelled the deserts and the coast.  They had spent several years living in Sunspear and the Water Gardens, yet more often than not Alysanne and her brothers had lived at Starfall.

The lands of the Reach and Stormlands were far different than the dry landscape of Dorne.  The hills were green, rich with grass and trees.  Herds of deer roamed the hill country, and foxes howled in the night.   Birds of a hundred colors flew from tree to tree, calling to one another by day and night.

Were she less concerned about her brothers, cousin, and father, Alysanne could have spent weeks travelling with ease throughout the beautiful green lands beyond Dorne.  Yet she could not rest her heart.  She would pace anxiously whenever they rested for the night.  She feared for the safety of her brothers.  She feared for the health of her father.  Though she could barely remember him, she knew her father from the letters which he had written to her throughout the years.  Her heart feared that she would never see him again.

Daemon was fond of teasing her about her desire to see her father.  “Does this stranger truly matter to you,” he would ask.  He would never understand, could never understand.  Her father was her father, it did not matter that he lived so far away or that he had not seen herself and her brothers in so many long years.  He wrote to her once per week.  He sent gifts for their name days and on the festival days for the Seven.  He even sent gifts for Nymeria’s Day, the annual celebration in Dorne held in remembrance of Queen Nymeria’s conquest of Dorne.  Lord Stark may have been an absent father, but he was a loving father.  There was no doubt in Alysanne’s mind that her father loved her.

Prince Oberyn was rather quiet on their journey.  His onyx eyes were hard, observing everything and giving nothing away.  He would sometimes watch her when they rested.  He had always watched her, her brothers, and his daughters with much the same expression when they had learned to fight and ride.  He always waited for them to either reach a conclusion or to ask for help.  She had yet to learn how to read his closed expressions, but drew comfort from his protection.

Daemon would watch her when they rested as well, but his interest was of a far different nature than Oberyn’s.  Daemon enjoyed flirting with her or any pretty face he saw.  She enjoyed his attentions, it served to distract her from her worries. She was never quite certain of his intentions. Maybe his intention was just to distract her.  Maybe he viewed her as a conquest.  Though she enjoyed his affection and found him attractive, he would never get more from her than smiles and mostly innocent touches.

Alysanne wanted to fall in love.  She did not want to give her virtue to any man who happened to smile at her and promise a good time.  She wanted to wed a good man who would love her and their children.  Her mother had wanted the same thing when she was young, but her life had taken a much different path.  A marriage between Daemon and Alysanne was not out of the question, as they were both bastards of noble Dornish Houses.  Alys, however, did not love him.  Daemon’s only love seemed to be Princess Arianne Martell.  He had once been so bold as to ask for the Princess’s hand in marriage, only to be rejected quite firmly.

Their days progressed in a relatively similar fashion.  They would ride, sometimes for an entire day, and then rest.  When they rested they would speak.  In the morning they would ride again.

Eventually, the riding trails from Dorne merged onto the Roseroad.  They slowed their pace as the shadow of King’s Landing grew in the distance.  The structure seemed at first to be a jagged hill, but as they drew closer, individual spires and towers could be seen.  The walls of the city grew larger and individual colors could be seen in the structure.  Parts of the wall were red, some were grey, and some were white.

They passed into the city through the King’s Gate.  If Prince Oberyn had given them time to pause, Alys would have lost herself in everything there was to see within the vast city.  The Prince led them through the twisting, winding streets of the city.  He sat stiffly upon his mount, instead of his usually relaxed position.  He hated the city, and how could he not when it held such dark memories.

They eventually made their way onto broader, tree lined avenues.  At one point, the Great Sept of Baelor shadowed their paths.  The golden domes of the white building shown brightly in the morning sun.  They gradually made their way to the enormous fortress at the far end of the street.

The walls and spires of the Red Keep shown red as blood in the sun.  Imposing was a mild term for how terrifying the structure appeared.  Spikes lined the walls, some even held skulls as a reminder of the power of the people living inside the fortress.

It was past mid-day when they passed the gates of the Red Keep.  Oberyn told the guards that they were seeking an audience with the Hand of the King.  The guards informed them that the Hand was holding court, and they were welcomed to attempt to make a request if the Hand was willing to speak with them. Oberyn smiled and assured them that the Hand would willingly speak with them.

Alysanne took note that he did not tell the guards his name.  He had simply told the guards that they were from Dorne, seeking audience with the Hand.

They dismounted from their horses at the common stables.  Ten of their men remained behind to watch over their belongings and tend to their mounts.  The remaining men followed Prince Oberyn and Alysanne into the castle.

They made their way to the Great Hall at a swift but easy pace.  Occasionally Alys would stare at the lavish surroundings.  She had never seen a building like the Red Keep before in her life.  The Prince on the other hand, had spent many days within the castle.  His sister had lived and died within the halls of the Red Keep, no doubt he could see her ghost as they walked to the throne room.

The doors into the Great Hall were open when they arrived.  The court was filled with petitioners and courtiers.  People who were highborn stood closer to the throne than those who were low born.  Commoners, knights, lords, ladies, anyone who wanted to see or be seen.  Some knelt and some stood, but only those on the throne or upon its dais were seated.

Oberyn walked them slowly toward the front of the crowd.  He moved as silently and gracefully as a cat, though his posture was still tense.  Eventually they were close enough that the figure seated upon the iron monstrosity would be able to see them clearly.

He was small on the throne, though the size of the throne would make anyone seem small.  He seemed regal upon the throne, even though his casted leg spoke to his injuries.  His face was plain and somber, and his eyes held those of his petitioners.  When he was finished speaking with the current petitioner, a farmer whose house had burned down, he looked out to the crowd.

Lord Eddard Stark’s eyes found Prince Oberyn’s.  Both of the men stiffened, and Alys wondered why they looked upon one another with such coldness.

“Prince Oberyn Martell,” Lord Stark said.  “What has brought you to King’s Landing?”

There were whispers and murmurs throughout the room.  Their presence had been noticed, but until that point they had been anonymous.  Oberyn stepped forward, followed by Alys and Daemon.  “I heard that you have had some troubles here, Lord Stark.  From the look of your leg, I can see that I was not misinformed.”  He smirked slightly.  “I have also come to find my squires.  I do believe that you know them?”

Lord Stark tensed.  “Indeed, I do.  They are well.”

“I am glad to hear that.  May I present my companions, Daemon Sand of Godsgrace, and Alysanne, of Starfall.”  Alys appreciated the Prince not referring to her as a Sand when introducing her at court, it prevented gossip.

Ned’s attention immediately snapped from the Viper of Dorne to Alysanne.  His eyes softened to see her.  If she had been less proper, she would have run to him.  She knew that she could not go to him.  She knew that she had to maintain decorum.  She curtsied to him.  He smiled at her, though it was brief and slight.  He turned to Oberyn again, his expression harder than before.

“Alyn, the head of my household guard, will escort you to the Tower of the Hand.  I will speak with you at length after I have concluded today’s petitions.”

From his right, a man dressed in Stark colors stepped forward.  Lord Stark whispered a few words to him, before he stepped off of the dais.  He approached Oberyn.  “Prince Oberyn, I am Alyn, if you will come with me?”

The Prince gave a crisp nod of his head, and they followed after the man.  He led them from the room through one of the access doors at the side of the room.  “Rooms will be given to you within the tower.  Lord Stark has also asked that your horses and belongings should be brought to the Hand’s Tower.”

They agreed, and followed after Alyn.  When they arrived at the Tower, some of their men went with a few of the Stark men to retrieve their horses.  Alyn informed them that Lord Stark suggested that Prince Oberyn be escorted to Lord Beric.  Oberyn agreed, and walked with one of the Stark men to see Lord Dondarrion.  Daemon followed after the Prince.

“Lord Stark also suggested that you may want to see your brothers and sisters, Lady Alysanne.”

She blushed.  Apparently her father had informed his man of who she was.  “Thank you.  Where are Jon and Arthur?”

“I have an idea of where they might be, though I will ask.  If you will follow me?”

She agreed, and followed behind him. They walked through the halls of the Tower of the Hand, and up a flight of stairs.  Alyn asked several men along the way if they knew where Jon or Arthur were.  When they received a firm answer, they walked up another flight of stairs.  Alyn opened a large oak door, and she stepped into a large, mostly unfurnished room.  After she entered, he closed the door behind her.

Inside the room, Edric Dayne and a young girl were standing at attention before a slight bald man.  All three held wooden swords.  Standing by the wall behind them were Jon and Arthur, watching in silence.  The boys turned at the sound of the door opening and smiled when they saw her.

“Alys,” Arthur exclaimed, surprised and delighted to see his older sister.

The other three turned to look at her as well.  Edric seemed just as surprised as Jon and Arthur.  The bald man betrayed no emotion.  The girl stared at her curiously, her eyes narrowing upon Alys.  The girl so strongly resembled Jon, Arthur, and Lord Stark that she was unquestionably a Stark.

“Who are you,” the girl questioned.

“I am Alysanne, Jon and Arthur’s sister.  I am sorry for interrupting your lessons, Lady Arya.”

Arya wrinkled her nose at the word ‘lady’.  “It’s nice to meet you.  You have a sword.”  Arya was looking directly at the sword that was fastened at Alysanne’s hip.

She laughed.  She had completely forgotten that she was wearing a blade.  “Yes, I have trained with a sword for many years.  It seems that you are in the process of learning.”

Arya favored her with a broad smile.  “I am!  Edric is training with me.  Do you want to watch?”

“I will gladly watch, sister.”

The girl grinned again, before returning her attention to her trainer.  Alys walked to her brothers and hugged each of them close.

“I did not expect you to come,” Jon whispered to her.

“I did not come alone,” she replied, also in hushed tones so that the two receiving lessons would not be disturbed.  “Prince Oberyn is here as well.  He is with Lord Beric.”

The boys stared at her, wide-eyed.  “Why did he come,” Arthur questioned.

“I am not privy to the mind of the Prince,” she replied.  “I came for the two of you and to see our father.  We did not lead an army.  Prince Doran did not even know of our departure, although I am certain that he knows by now.  Other than that, the Prince was my escort.”

“He would not have come just to be your escort,” Jon muttered.

“I know that.  I do not know his mind, any more than either of you do.  I am also angry that neither of you told me that you were going to come here.”

The boys had the decency to look ashamed.  “It was an impulse,” Jon soothed, apologetic.

She rolled her eyes.  “If it was just an impulse, then you would not have had time to pack your armor.”

She glared at them for a few moments, and they could come up with no reply other than sheepish apologies.  She turned away from them to face her sister and cousin as they trained.

“What are they like,” she asked eventually.  “Our sisters and father,” she clarified when her brothers did not respond at first.

“Arya is very determined to not be a lady,” Arthur informed her.  “She is stubborn, fierce, playful.  She would enjoy Dorne.  Sansa is a typical highborn midlands girl.  She is pretty, polite, and has a head filled with empty things.”

“That is hardly fair,” Jon scolded.  “Sansa is kind, a dreamer.  She loves music and art.  She enjoys all the beautiful things in life.”

“With those interests, she sounds positively Dornish,” Alys grinned.  “Where is she?”

“She has actual dancing lessons at this time,” Jon replied.  “Instead of Braavosi Water Dancing lessons.  She has no interest in swords.”

“Few women do outside of Dorne.  What is father like?”

Good, kind, quiet, and busy were the responses that Jon and Arthur gave.  They told her about the tournament and about their father’s injury.  When Arya and Edric’s lesson ended, they went to one of the drawing rooms to eat.  It was there that Sansa joined them.  She was accompanied by her friend Jeyne Poole.

“Sansa, this is our sister,” Arya stated when the red-haired girl entered the room.

“Our sister?”

Alys gave a polite curtsey.  “I am your half-sister Alysanne.  I arrived here a few short hours ago.  It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Sansa.”

The girl seemed stunned for a short while.  “It is a pleasure to meet you as well.  How was your journey?”

“It was a very long journey, though the horses rode well.  King’s Landing is quite different than Dorne.”

Sansa smiled.  “King’s Landing is quite different from Winterfell as well.”

“Would you be kind enough to tell me about Winterfell while we eat?”

The girl assented happily.  Sansa, Arya, and Jeyne spoke of Winterfell, and the Stark boys who had remained in the North.  Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, and Edric spoke of Starfall and Dorne.  When they were finished eating, the three northern girls went to have lessons with their septa.  Jon, Arthur, and Edric went to find Lord Beric.  Alysanne was shown to a small suite of rooms which had been prepared for her so that she could refresh herself and finally change out of her travel clothes.

Alys met up with Jon and Arthur later in the day to take a walk around the tower.  Much later in the evening they all met again for the evening meal.  Jeyne Poole did not eat with them, just Edric Dayne and the children of Lord Stark. They were joined by Lord Beric, Prince Oberyn, and Lord Stark.  The three lords had spent the previous two hours in a long discussion within Lord Stark’s solar.  They all seemed weary and somewhat annoyed.

Even through his pained exhaustion, Ned smiled when he saw his children.  “It is good to see you again Alys,” he told her as Alyn helped him to the table.  “You resemble your mother very much.”

“Thank you father,” she replied happily.  She walked to him and embraced him quickly before taking her place at the table.  Propriety mattered less when there was only family and friends in the room.  His hug was warm and strong, reassuring.

They spoke little of serious matters.  Alysanne spoke of the ride to King’s Landing.  Arya and Sansa spoke of their lessons.  Jon, Arthur, and Edric also spoke of the lessons they had been given that day.  When their meal was nearly ended, Lord Stark changed the tone of the conversation.

“I have spoken at length with Prince Oberyn,” he said.  “We are in agreement that you should visit Dorne.”

“What?” “Why?”  Sansa and Arya asked both questions.  The Dornish children simply looked on in surprise.

“King’s Landing is not a safe place for young children,” Prince Oberyn replied in somber tones.

“Three of my men were murdered here,” Ned added.  “My leg was broken by the Jaime Lannister and in response all that the king has done is go hunting.”

“But I don’t want to leave King’s Landing,” Sansa protested.  “I am betrothed to Prince Joffrey.  I am to be his queen. 

Arya’s face twisted in disgust.  Their father inhaled deeply.  Prince Oberyn tensed, a grim expression upon his face.  It was his nephew who should have been King after Rhaegar’s death.  It was here, within the Red Keep that Prince Oberyn’s sister, nephew, and niece had been murdered.

“Many young girls dream of being the queen, Lady Sansa,” Oberyn muttered darkly.  “My sister was to have been Queen.  My nephew was to have been a king.”  As the Viper of Dorne spoke, all of the diners tensed in their seats.  “Instead, my family’s blood was spilled here by the Queen’s father.  Her husband was killed by the King.  In a war caused by...”  He stopped, looking at Ned with thinly veiled anger.  Then he smiled, swiftly changing the tone of his voice. “By a mad king.”

The silence which filled the room was deafening; the tension thick.  Oberyn took a few gulps of wine and laughed to break the spell.  “Now I hear that King Robert, once so strong and robust, is little more than a drunk.  Is that the sort of man whose son anyone would want to marry?”

“Oh but Joffrey is nothing like the king,” Sansa insisted.  “He is beautiful and golden.  Our children would have beautiful golden hair.  They would be as brave as wolves and as proud as lions.”

“They wouldn’t be lions, they would be stags,” Arya spat.  “Joffrey is a craven and a liar, and his children would be stags just like the king.”

“He is not!”  Sansa cried out fiercely.

Ned swore softly, causing the ever watchful gaze of Oberyn to fall upon him.  Whatever spell Lord Stark found himself under, he pushed away.  “Girls that is enough.  I believe that it is time for you to retire for the evening.”  He spoke as firmly as he had when seated upon the Iron Throne.  “I want all of you to rest for the evening,” he told the children.  He smiled gently at Alys.  “I will spend more time with you tomorrow.  It is good to see you again.”

Each of the children stood obediently and bade the lords to have a good night.  The desert wolves lingered at the door a moment longer than their sisters, but they also obediently went to their rooms.  Something was wrong.  Each of the children could sense that there was something their father had not told them.  There was something that Oberyn Martell either knew or suspected.  Whatever the issue, the children would learn nothing that night.


	9. The Decisions of Lord Eddard Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains direct quotes and paraphrases from A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin.  
> (That is the bibliography for this chapter and the previous, and most probably the next few.)

What direction should a wolf take when they are trapped between lions and snakes?  Perhaps that was a morality tale Old Nan should have taught Eddard Stark as a child.  Old Nan’s warnings had been related to behaving or ancient legends.  She had never told Ned or his siblings what to do when your heart is pulled in multiple directions.  She had never taught them how to play politics.

Now Ned sat as Hand of the King, the second most powerful person in Westeros.  He wanted nothing to do with power and politics.  He was raised to be Brandon’s bannerman.  He was made for a simpler life.  He was made for running a keep for his lord and for loving a wife and children.  Yet life had changed when Rhaegar had disappeared with Lyanna.

It should have been a relatively simple matter to be Hand of the King.  Then Bran broke his back.  Lysa’s letter arrived for Catelyn, implicating the Lannisters in Jon Arryn’s death. The direwolves of his daughters were killed and lost, and when he finally arrived in King’s Landing he learned that someone had tried to murder his son.  On top of his own family issues, the small council was made of a collection of scheming rats, the king did not care about being a ruler, and the crown was deeply in debt.

He had hoped that his problems would not get worse, but apparently the gods believed that he did not have enough worries.  His broken leg and the threat of war between the Riverlands and Westerlands due to his wife capturing Tyrion Lannister attested to the arrival of new dangers.  Then, to top everything off, Prince Oberyn Martell was seated beside him in the Tower of the Hand when he realized what “the seed is strong” meant.

Ned was able to put off explaining his disturbing thoughts until the next morning.  Oh, the Viper of Dorne had wanted to know what bothered Ned so much that he sent all of the children from the room with scarcely a second thought.  Ned told the man that he needed to rest and had much upon his mind.  He promised that they would speak in the morning.

He had spent the night pour through the vast tome which Jon Arryn had been reading before he died.  Every Baratheon was born ‘black of hair,’ even in marriages between one who was light of hair and one who was dark of hair.  If that were true, then why were all three of King Robert’s trueborn children blonde haired and green eyed while his bastards were all black haired and blue eyed?

The horrible pattern was laid out before his eyes through the words of his children and in the presence of his bastards. “He’s not a stag,” Sansa had boldly stated.  Bastards in the Tower of the Hand and hidden bastards who would some day sit upon the Iron Throne.  So suddenly clear it had become to him, the Queen’s children were not the King’s. Just as at least one of Ned’s bastards was not his own.  ‘Promise me, Ned,’ Lyanna’s ghost whispered in his ear.

In his fitful sleep, he dreamt of the day he had ridden into King’s Landing during the Rebellion.  He saw them lying there, dead, the children of Prince Rhaegar.  They had been mutilated, destroyed.  Robert Baratheon had looked upon them and approved.  Dragonspawn, he had called the children, the half-brother and half-sister of the boy named Jon Sand.  Rhaenys and Aegon, the niece and nephew of the Red Viper, whose presence in King’s Landing was just as dangerous as the truth of Cersei Lannister’s children.

Ned would need to tell the King what he knew, but he could not allow the children to be present.  He may not have liked the boy named Joffrey Baratheon, but the three children did not deserve to be murdered because they were bastards.  He could not trust anyone.  He was uncertain that he could even trust Prince Oberyn, with whom was shared the secret of Jon’s birth.  Perhaps especially not Oberyn.

Between his unsettling dreams and the pain of his leg, he had not slept well that night.  The sky was only just beginning to lighten when Ned gave up his attempts at sleep.  He called to Thrin, his page, who stood outside his door.  He requested that when Alysanne awoke that she should break her fast with him in his private study.

Ned spent the hours between the time he awoke and his daughter’s arrival performing a variety of tasks.  With help from one of his stewards, he was cleaned and dressed.  Though his leg was painful, he refused any milk of the poppy, he would need a clear head that day.  When he was ready, Alyn assisted him with walking to his study.  Prince Oberyn was already inside, much to Ned’s displeasure.

“You are awake early,” Ned said, his voice was hardly welcoming.

The man’s lips twisted into a grim smile.  He lowered his feet from where they rested upon Ned’s desk, and he sheathed the dagger which he had been stroking casually.  “I find it difficult to sleep in this place.  I hear their blood cry out to me and wonder when...”  He let his words drop off, but Ned knew what the Prince meant.  When would Elia and her children be avenged?

If Oberyn knew the truth of Cersei’s children he would kill Cersei and Robert, of that Ned had little doubt. Would he kill the children who had usurped his niece and nephew?  Would he do to them what had been done to his own blood?

“You may go Alyn,” Ned told the head of his guard.  The man left with a respectful bow, closing the door as he left.  Ned seated himself in one of the large, cushioned chairs in the room.  “Why did you seek out my solar?”

His lips curled into a viper’s smile.  “I am still curious as to what made you so disturbed last night when we dined?  What better time to discuss such matters than first thing in the morning?”

Ned released a weary sigh.  This was definitely not the discussion that he wanted to have first thing in the morning.  “I am expecting to break my fast with Alysanne.”

“She can wait.”

“Wait?  Other than a few short hours last night, I have not seen my daughter in nine years!”

“For that there is only one person to blame.”

Ned clenched his hands around the arms of his chair and gritted his teeth.  He refused to be baited by the man.  “I am the Lord of Winterfell.  I cannot leave my responsibilities whenever my heart so desires.”

Oberyn laughed.  “But you could leave your marriage vows as your... heart desired?”

There were few good retorts to the biting accusations of the Prince.  “I have dealt with my discretions as I have best been able.  I am grateful that you have been an influence upon my children.”

His smile widened.  “Oh it has been a pleasure, especially the youngest...”

Lucas, the other child who called Ned father and might not be his son.  Shortly after Lucas Sand had been born, Ashara had sent a letter to Ned saying that her newest child may or may not be his.  She was uncertain.  The boy looked much like Alysanne, and all of Prince Oberyn’s children had his eyes.  Lucas had Ashara’s eyes.  Alys had Ashara’s eyes.  The boy was most likely Ned’s and he had claimed the boy, but there was still a chance that Lucas was the son of Prince Oberyn Martell, a fact of which both men were well aware.

Ned raised a brow in silence but refused to answer Oberyn.

“If you wish for me to leave, answer my question?  What is it that bothers you?  It was not your leg which made you send the children to bed yesterday evening.  It was not your leg which kept you awake this past night.  It was something about the young Prince which caused you to be troubled.”

Ned breathed deep, attempting to quell the thoughts which troubled him.  “I have a suspicion about a matter, though I do not know anything for a certainty.”

Oberyn shifted in his seat.  He leaned forward, hands upon his knees, gazing intently at the Lord of Winterfell.  “A suspicion?”

Ned ran a weary hand across his face.  Should he tell the man what he suspected?  Was it wise?  “Would you ever hold a child responsible for the crimes of their parents?”

The man sat back, genuine shock displayed upon his face.  “A strange question, but no, I would not.”

Ned gave a slow nod of his head, pondering his next step.  All things considered, if he were to trust his fears about the Lannisters to anyone, Prince Oberyn Martell was his best option.  Though Ned also considered that Oberyn might be the worst person to whom he might tell the truth.

"Do you know why I came here?"

Oberyn's gaze was incredulous.   "Is this a trick question?"  Seeing that Ned was serious, he continued. "You had an ulterior motive other than serving your dear friend the King?"

"My son Brandon fell from a tower in Winterfell before we left.  He was unconscious when I departed and has since awoken.  He recalls nothing of his fall, and will never walk again."

Oberyn offered his condolences, which Ned graciously accepted before continuing.  "Before my son awoke, a man with a Valyrian steel dagger attempted to murder him.  The man also attacked my wife.  My son's direwolf saved their lives."

He paused, allowing the information to settle.  "It is our belief that the Lannisters are behind the attack on Bran and the death of Jon Arryn."

Oberyn regarded him with a curiously neutral expression.   "And now you have a suspicion as to why?"

"Yes."

Oberyn stood suddenly and walked to the window.  "Do you know that there are said to be hidden passages throughout the Red Keep?  My sister Elia once told me that she could hear whispers in the walls of her rooms here.  I will leave you to your morning meal.  I would be interested in continuing this conversation later."

The Prince held Ned's gaze for a moment, his eyes full of meaning.  They would talk later, somewhere that would be more private.  Somewhere that they could speak of dangers without being overheard.  With a polite word of parting, Oberyn swept from the room.

Ned waited in the room for his daughter and the morning meal to arrive.  The food arrived first, platters piled with meats, breads, and fruit.  He poured himself some of the beer which had been brought for the meal and chewed on some of the bread.  Some minutes later, Alys arrived in the room.

"Good morning father," she greeted merrily.

He smiled at her.  Thankfully there was no need to force a smile when he saw one of his children, their presence was always a joy.  "Good morning, did you have a pleasant day here yesterday?"

She replied as she gathered food from the platters onto a smaller plate. "Yes, my sisters are wonderful and the capital is unlike anything I have ever seen before."

She seated herself across from him, a nervous smile upon her lips.  She looked so much like her mother, just as Sansa resembled her own mother.  Her face also bore a resemblance to Lyanna, longer and northern.

"I am glad to hear that.  I am sorry that I have not seen you for these many years.  Your name day just passed, it is difficult for me to believe that you are already six and ten."  And he had missed all of those years.

"Mother has said much the same every year.  Every time I go to Sunspear she tells me how much of a young woman I seem upon my return."

"You look very much like her."

She laughed.  "So everyone tells me.  Oberyn's daughters say that I am like to break as many hearts."

He smiled.  "Your mother did have that reputation.  She broke men's hearts with a smile and a dance."

Her smile faded and she pursed her lips.  "Is it my fault that mother never married?"

He was shocked at the notion.  "Of course not.  You should never blame yourself for the choices which I made regarding your mother.  She and I were young and made decisions which have been unfair to her reputation."

"Mother doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks about her.  I think that my aunts and the staff gave up on the nobility of House Dayne's reputation when it comes to my mother long ago.  The Princes do not seem to mind."

He nearly scoffed at that.  Prince Oberyn was quite skilled at contributing to Ashara's lack of reputation.  He decided against mentioning such things in front of his daughter.  “Have you and your brothers spent much time with Prince Doran?”

She nodded slowly as she chewed on the food which was in her mouth.  “We only returned home to Starfall about six turns ago after spending two years at the Water Gardens.  Prince Doran taught us cyvasse.  He told me that I was the most adept at learning the game.  Jon is good at the game, but prefers swordplay over strategy.  Arthur would rather be on a horse or practicing his martial training than sitting in a room learning strategy.”

Ned laughed.  The more he learned of Arthur, the more his son reminded him of Brandon.  Always wild, willful, and eager for a fight.  “Your brothers have told me that you are quite skilled with a sword and as a rider.”

“I am the best rider in Dorne,” she proclaimed quickly before amending, “Or at least, I am the best that I have seen.  Oberyn often tells us and his daughters that we must never be overconfident of our skills, for there may always be someone better.”

“That is wise advice.  Do you heed his words?”

“With weapons yes, but not always when it comes to riding.”  Her eyes seemed alive with light at the thought of riding.  “There is nothing more thrilling than racing along the coast with nothing but the sound of wind and waves.  I love it, truly.”

Perhaps it was not Arya who was Lyanna come again, perhaps it was Alysanne, Ned mused.  “Just be careful sweetling, I would not want any harm to befall you.”

“Of course father.”

“Now tell me, how have your other studies progressed?”

“Our maester has taught me all that he can of numbers.  Mother allows me to work with our business contracts and to assist with the administration of Starfall.  Jon and Arthur travel to meet with our contracts some of the time, but Jon enjoys the business more than Arthur.  Mother worried Prince Oberyn by implying that I handle all of our new contracts, truthfully one of our stewards handles most of the affairs of Starfall with mother, but I assist now that I am an adult.”

“Do you enjoy the work?”

“I like working with the spice and cloth merchants.  We have a trader who comes twice a year from the Summer Isles, selling spices that do not grow in Westeros.  We sell them to Highgarden for three times the price at which we purchase them.  We sell lemon and olive oils to several merchants from Lys and in return they sell us some of the most beautiful cloth which I have ever seen.  We sell the cloth in Oldtown and Sunspear.  A merchant from Myr once gave me a looking glass for no charge when mother signed a contract with him.  I think that he wished to marry her for her beauty, but she refused him.”

“And yet he still gave your family his business?”

“Of course, for he said, ‘he could still gaze upon the most beautiful women in all the world whenever he returned to us.’  Mother thinks that I will be able to become a wealthy trader on my own merits.”

“A noble ambition.  Would that make you happy?”

She laughed.  “I am not unhappy with my life.  I do believe that I should be content wherever I am, so long as I am loved by those whom I love.”

He realized that her smile did not seem to be quite genuine when she said that she was happy.  He could not help but feel that it was his fault.  “I am glad that you are happy.  I wish that I had seen more of your life as you have grown into such a remarkable young woman.”

Her smile fell, though only for the briefest of moments, replaced by another that felt false.  “It is not your fault father, I know that you would have spent more time with us if you were able.  Sansa and Arya’s adoration of you seems to speak truth to what I have always believed.  You have never failed to write to me or to send me gifts.  I have not doubted your love.”

His heart ached to look at her, this child of his whose life he had never had any influence upon.  He should have visited Ashara’s children more.  He should have brought them north.  “I am sorry that you have not been part of my life.  I do love you and your brothers.  I always have and I always will.  No matter where we are, no matter if we are half a world away, we are family.”

She nodded slowly as tears filled her eyes.  He opened his arms to her and she stood, walked to him, and fell into his arms.

* * *

It was a few hours before the midday meal when Ned and Oberyn spoke again.  They were seated upon an outdoor terrace, overlooking a secluded training yard.  Alysanne, Jon, and Arthur were sparring together.  Arya and Edric were sparring as well.  Many members of their households, including Lord Beric were in the training yard as well.  Sansa was elsewhere with Jeyne, for the girls were not interested in learning the ways of the sword.

There were no hedges or walls near where the men sat, and they sent all of their servants far enough away that the men would not be overheard.  They were seated beside a stone retaining wall which divided the terrace from the yard.

“She is quite talented,” Ned said as he observed his children.

“Of course she is, I trained her,” Oberyn replied, with no small measure of hubris in his voice.  “Your youngest seems quite spirited as well.”

“Wolf-blood,” he muttered.  “She is too much like her aunt.”

Ned did not bother to look at Oberyn to know how distasteful the expression upon the man’s face had become.  Their lives were very intertwined, the Lord of Winterfell and the Red Viper of Dorne.  Their sisters had married the same man and had died for that man’s foolishness.  The men had both loved the same woman, Ashara Dayne, whose children Oberyn had helped to raise.  They shared the secret of Jon Sand’s birth.  They would soon share the secret of Ned’s suspicions.

“Will you tell me now what troubles you?”

Alysanne deflected Arthur’s sword and spun to lunge at Jon.

“Bastards trouble me.”

“Not your bastards nor mine I assume?”

Jon jumped away from Alysanne’s attack, narrowly missing her blade.  He parried her attack, and then thrust forward, the momentum turning her toward Arthur.

“No, though my heart is troubled that I have not spent near enough time with mine.  I have spent time recently visiting the bastards of King Robert.”

“How many does he have?”

“At least three whom I have seen.  All of them resemble the King, black hair and blue eyes.”

Alys and Jon teamed up for a brief moment and brought Arthur to the ground, blades at his neck.  He raised his hands in defeat and barely removed himself from the game when Alys and Jon resumed their attack upon one another.

“And the King’s children with the Queen?”

“All look remarkably look the Queen, and not at all like the King.”

Near the desert trio, Arya was barely holding her ground against the Lord of Starfall.  He was older than her and better trained, but she was determined.  She ran if his blade seemed to be too close to her.

“I have seen other children who look not at all like their father.”

Ned’s eyes fell upon Jon.  The boy scarcely resembled Rhaegar Targaryen.  His hair, face, and eyes were all Stark.  It was his lean build and graceful movement which resembled the former Prince of Dragonstone.

“There is an old tome, which Jon Arryn had been reading when he died.  It records the lineages of all the Great Houses of Westeros, including descriptions of every member of the family.  Every child of House Baratheon has been born black of hair, no matter the color of the mother’s hair.  The bastards I have seen of the King have also been black of hair, no matter the color of the mother’s hair.”

Edric knocked the sword from Arya’s hand, and she knelt in defeat before him.

“A curious thing,” Oberyn responded with caution.  “But what do you suspect?”

Ned hesitated a moment, and then told Oberyn everything that he knew.  He told him of Lysa’s letter to Catelyn.  He told Oberyn about the attempt to murder Bran and of Ser Jaime Lannister’s attack upon himself.

Jon held his blade close to Alys’s throat, but she merely laughed at him for she was still armed.

“I think that Cersei’s children are bastards born of incest with her own brother,” Ned concluded.

Alys grabbed Jon’s hand and swung a leg behind his, tripping him and causing him to fall beneath her.  She pinned him and brought her own sword to rest against his neck in victory.

“And what will you do?”

“I will tell the king when he returns.  I think that he will believe my conclusion.”

“If this is your decision, why does it trouble you?”  His hands were bloodless from his grip upon the arms of his chair.

The children switched partners.  Jon practiced with Lord Beric, Arthur with Daemon Sand, Alys with Arya, and Edric with one of the younger squires.

“I dreamt of the day that King’s Landing fell.  I saw their bodies.  I saw your sister and niece and nephew.  Robert looked upon them and was pleased.”  His voice shook with rage.  Even now, so many years later, he was still furious over the murders of the children and Princess of Dorne.  “He would murder the Queen’s children.”

“You wish to tell her?”  The men looked at one another and Ned gave him a brisk nod of his head.  “It will not end well.”

“Do you think that I am correct?”

“In your hypothesis?  I believe that it is quite possibly true.  Yet if you are and you confront the queen, what then?  Are you prepared to fight the lions?”

“We are already at war.  Lord Tywin has sent men to burn villages in the Riverlands in retaliation for my wife taking Tyrion hostage.  I sent men from here to subdue Tywin’s bandits and Lord Tully is beginning to amass his own men in defense against the Lannisters.”

Oberyn’s eyes were alight with a hunger that could only be quenched by bloodshed.  “Are you willing to do what must be done?”  His eyes fell at once upon Jon.

“We do not have the support for such an action, which you well know,” Ned hissed.  “Patience.”

“Patience,” he spat the word as though it were a curse.  “That is all my brother ever speaks of.”

“And think of how different our world would be if my brother had known the meaning of the word, or my sister, or Rhaegar.”  They gazed upon one another with steady glares for a long moment.  “We may never be able to fully avenge all that was lost.  I have ordered the death of Gregor Clegane.  He is the man responsible for sacking towns in the Riverlands, and he is responsible for murdering your sister.”

“It is Lord Tywin who should be held responsible.”

“And he will be if we are smart about how things are handled now, especially regarding the Queen and her children.”

Oberyn glared stiffly at Ned for a long moment before speaking again.  “What is it that you think we should do?”

“You said yesterday that my children would all be welcomed to visit Dorne.  I would send all of them from this place today.  I will make plans to speak with Queen Cersei, and when I do I want you to send all of them south.  If anyone has questions I will say that the girls are going to be visiting their half-siblings in Dorne and that it was not appropriate for my bastards to be occupying the Tower of the Hand.”

“I will send them with Lord Beric and his men.  Will any of your men accompany them?”

“Only Syrio Forel, if he will go.  Jeyne Poole, my steward’s daughter, should leave as well.  I will entrust their safety to you and your men.”

“I will remain here.”

“Here?”

“You will need myself and my men should any negative outcome befall you.  Lord Beric and his men will be all the escort the children will need on their journey.”

Ned agreed with some reluctance.  “After the midday meal.  I must speak with Maester Pycelle and Littlefinger shortly.”

Ned called for Alyn and Thrin, and the men approached from the far end of the terrace, where they had been keeping watch.  Ned took his leave of the Prince and gazed sadly upon his children for a moment before he went back to the Tower of the Hand with his two men.

Inside the Tower, Maester Pycelle was already awaiting Ned.  He inspected Ned’s injured leg, commenting upon the healing process.  He also mentioned that Lord Tywin Lannister had written his displeasure that Lord Eddard Stark had sent men after Gregor Clegane.  Ned told the aged man that he cared not about Lord Tywin’s wroth, the men were carrying out the King’s justice.  If Tywin Lannister interfered, it would be the King to whom he would answer.

Lord Baelish arrived about an hour after the maester departed.  Littlefinger shared whispers he had heard.  Men at arms were gathering at Casterly Rock.  Prince Joffrey, the Royces, and several other members of the hunting party had returned.  Littlefinger remarked upon the presence of Prince Oberyn and Ned’s bastards, but Ned waved away the issue.  He did not trust the man enough to speak to him upon such matters.

It was not long after Baelish left that the midday meal was prepared in the small hall of the Tower of the Hand.  Ned was seated between Prince Oberyn and Lord Beric, Ned’s children were all seated across from him.  It killed him inside that he would send them away, but it was necessary.  His children would not be safe in the capital, not after today.  He would see them again when everything calmed.

Ned ate sparingly, for he could not calm his fears enough to enjoy the meal.  If everything went poorly, he would never see his children again.  If everything went well?  Did he even know what the best option would be?

The Martells sought revenge.  They would use Jon as a tool to seek their revenge.  If Robert remained without a lawful heir, his heir was his brother Stannis, a man for whom most people had little love.  What would be the best option?

‘Promise me, Ned,’ Lyanna whispered in his mind.  Jon was the lawful king.  But what made a man a lawful king?  Blood?  Power?  Loyalty?

“Father,” a voice broke through his troubled thoughts.  Sansa was gazing at him, concerned.  “Do you like Lord Beric’s idea for us to go riding this afternoon?”

Prince Oberyn must have already informed Lord Beric of the plans.  Ned forced a brief smile to his lips.  “Of course sweetling, it will be good for you to get some air outside the city walls.”

“Thank you father,” she replied with a smile.  She was such a gentle, trusting child.  He felt a pang of guilt that he was sending her away.  He still had not forgiven himself for the death of her wolf.  Would Sansa ever forgive him for killing her wolf, or lying to her now?

They all departed one by one, except for Ned and the men beside him.  “Is everything prepared?”

“Yes, Lord Stark,” Beric replied.  “We have the horses readied and all of our supplies.”

Ned retrieved a letter from the pouch which hung at his side.  “I have written this for the children.  Allow them to read it when they are far from the city.  Ride slowly at first, it would not help our cause if any suspicions are aroused.”

“Of course.”

Ned sighed heavily.  “I cannot thank you enough for all that you are both doing and have done for my family.”

“It has always been a pleasure, Lord Stark,” Lord Beric replied, with all sincerity.

“It is proving to be quite interesting,” Oberyn replied.

The men departed, leaving Ned alone for a few moments before Alyn reappeared to assist Ned.  Ned asked for his assistance in travelling to the godswood, and the man complied willingly.  By the time they arrived, Ned was wishing that his leg could be removed for all the pain it was causing him.  When he was seated by the heart tree, a faceless oak that could scarcely be considered a heart tree, Ned gave Alyn a letter to be delivered right away.  The man raised a brow in surprise at the name on the paper, but he left immediately to do his duty.

It was some time later when she arrived.  The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, lovely and fair, save for the healing bruise upon her cheek.  Queen, as Ned’s sister could have been, as Oberyn’s sister should have been.  He asked her if the King had ever struck her before, to which she claimed that he had never struck her face before. She said that her brother would have killed the king if Robert had ever dared to strike her in his presence.

“My brother is worth a hundred of your friend,” she then declared boldly.

“Your brother, or your lover?”  He asked the question boldly and to his shock she replied without hesitation.

“Both.”  She confessed that they had been lovers since they were children, two bodies and one person, she claimed.  Why should she feel ashamed when the Targaryens had married brother to sister for generations?

“My son Bran?”

“He saw us,” she told him as she looked him directly in the eyes.  “Would you not do anything to protect one of your own children?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.  He had done so that very day by sending his children from the city.

“Then do you not think that I would do anything to protect my children?”

“They are all Jaime’s,” he stated mildly.

She laughed.  “Yes, thank the gods.”

He asked how it was that she had never been pregnant by Robert.  She confessed that the only time she had been with child by her husband she found a way to end the pregnancy.  In more recent years they scarcely had been in a bed together, and she had not allowed him to be truly intimate with her in a long time.  He asked her what had caused her to hate Robert so much and she answered him with fire in her eyes.  She told him of her wedding night.  She told him that while King Robert was drunkenly consummating their marriage, he called her Lyanna.

Did it all come back to his sister?  The little girl whom Ned could still, in his mind’s eye, see so clearly as she played in the pools beside the ancient heart tree in Winterfell.  The nearly grown girl who would race her horse at terrifying speeds through the Wolfswood.  The young maiden who cried and shouted when she was betrothed to Robert Baratheon.  The slightly older maiden who cried as the Prince of Dragonstone played his harp and sang.  The young mother who died of childbed fever shortly after he arrived beside her bed.  ‘Promise me, Ned.’  He did not know if he should weep or curse his sister’s bones.  He had never known how he should feel about his sister after she had died.  Did she think for a moment of how many lives one decision would ruin?

“Robert would have hated my sister,” he said darkly.  She looked up at him in shock.  “She was much like you,” he continued.  “Beautiful and spirited.  She would never have backed down to him, and if he had struck her she would have killed him.  Would you?”

The color drained from her face.  “I would never dare to kill a king, Lord Stark.”

He bowed his head.  “You know that I must tell him the truth when he returns.”

“Must?”  She softened her voice and laid a gentle hand upon his leg.  Her hair shone with golden red light in the waning sunlight.  She trailed her hand along his thigh as she spoke.  She told him that a man does as he wills and not as he must.  She told him that the realm would need a strong Hand to rule the realm while Joffrey grew.  She removed her hand from his leg and touched his cheek, his hair.  “If friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends.  Your wife is a thousand leagues away and my brother has fled.  Be kind to me, Ned.  I swear to you that you shall not regret it.”

“Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?”

She scoffed at him, and slapped him.  “I shall wear it as a badge of honor,” Ned said, repeating the very words which she had spoken when King Robert had hit her.

“Honor,” she spat the word at him.  “You of all people dare speak to me of honor?  How many bastards do you have, Lord Stark?  Two have been gallivanting around the Red Keep for weeks.  A third is said to have arrived just yesterday. Tell me, does your wife love you better for your bastards?  All with Ashara Dayne who was once the most sought after woman in Princess Elia’s retinue.  You dare to speak to me of honor and right and wrong when you have gone to another woman’s bed and declared her children as your own while your wife could do nothing!”

“You insult me by insinuating that I would have made such an offer to Lord Arryn.  The old man never knew anything about myself or my children.  If he did he never breathed a word of it where I or any of my people could hear.  A man like you has walked in the flames of love and lust.  You would do anything to preserve your children, well so would I!  If anything should happen to me or my children, my father would bring all of his armies to his side.  What do you think would happen to your children if they were to remain here under such circumstances?”

But they would not be here, he knew that well enough.  His children were far away from the Red Keep and King’s Landing.  Half of his children were safely in the North and the rest were on their way to Dorne at that very moment.  “I do not wish for war,” he replied simply.

“Neither do I,” her voice turned soft as silk again.  Her hands returned to his face and thigh.  The woman was maddeningly persistent.  “We could have peace, today, Ned.  Robert never needs to know.  I am certain that with the life you have lived you have a dark secret or two.  We could share this one.”

He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.  Ned held Rhaegar’s heir in his custody and spoke to the Queen as if her treasons were worse than his own.  “I will not deny that I have had many secrets, but if he knows he will murder your children.  If I was able to discover the truth, then I can assure you that it is only a matter of time before someone else discovers it as well.  I was here when they presented Robert with the bodies of the Targaryen children. If Robert learns the truth, he would look upon them the same way he looked upon Rhaegar’s children.  I would not wish that upon anyone.”

Her hands stilled and he could see her curiosity as she regarded him.  “You truly would wish for any child to be safe.  Perhaps that is where your honor may be found.”  She brushed a thumb gently across his lower lip and then ran that hand through his beard.  “I know that your honor to your marriage vows is less than solid, and so does everyone in Westeros.  It was Jaime who pushed your son from the window.  I was shocked by his actions.  A boy so young could easily have been silenced by a few threats or even by telling him a half truth.  Children of that age do not understand the ways of adults.”

He caught her hands, willing her to cease teasing him.  “And of the man who was sent to slit my son’s throat?”

“What?”  She nearly jumped in shock at his words.  Her reaction was far too genuine to have been faked.  She did not know that someone had been hired to murder Bran.  “Is that why your wife seized my brother?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly.

She laughed.  “Why would Tyrion try to kill your boy?  He has no reason to kill your son.  Jaime would never hire a sword when his own hand could do the killing.  I would never do such a loathsome deed.  The boy was unconscious and it was only by the will of the gods that he awoke and has no memory of what he saw.”

He dropped her hands, at a loss for words.

“You do not seem to have all of the answers anymore Lord Stark.”

He smiled wanly at her.  “I have never had all of the answers your grace.”

“Is that why you did not take the throne when you had the chance?”

He bit back a bitter laugh.  “I had no desire to sit upon the throne.”

“Then that was your mistake, Lord Stark.”  She stood and looked down upon him.  Her hair illumined by the sun which was sinking low in the sky behind her.  She seemed a bit like a lioness as looked down upon him.  “You should have taken the throne when you saw my brother seated upon it, the mad king dead at his feet. A terrible mistake.”

“I have made many mistakes in my life, but that was not one of them.”

“Oh but it was, my lord.  When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.  There is no middle ground.”  With that, she walked away from him and returned to the Keep.

It was some hours later when Prince Oberyn and Alyn appeared to escort him back to the Tower of the Hand.

“Are they gone,” Ned asked Oberyn the moment he saw the man.

“They are well on their way to safety,” he replied.  “Did you ask her?”

Ned bowed his head.  “It is as I suspected.”

“She admitted it,” he hissed, drawing himself to within an inch of Ned’s face.

“Yes.  I told her to flee the city and she did not seem interested.”

Oberyn swore fiercely.  “Don’t you see,” he spat, when Ned looked upon the Prince in confusion.  They were standing just outside the door of the Tower of the Hand.  “If she does not fear the truth or wish to flee from the city, it can only mean one thing.  She does not anticipate the King returning from the hunt alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone for your interest in this story.
> 
> So Cersei in the book really does make a pass at Ned. Ned/Cersei is my guilty pleasure pairing, but I really don't think that even this angry and jaded Ned would go for her. (I can dream, but I won't force pairings that don't work in the story.)
> 
> I don't hate Lyanna, neither does this Ned, but he does have major issues with her that will never be resolved.
> 
> It occurred to me that it is really strange for Cersei (in the books) to confess to Ned the truth about her children unless she believes that Robert will die when hunting. (Which she did.)


	10. A Lion Still Has Claws

Cersei Lannister had learned long ago to never have faith in men.

She had learned that men could not be depended upon for anything as a girl. Her father had always been cold, unloving, and immovable, and that had only worsened once her mother had died.  Her mother’s death had been Tyrion’s fault, but their father had allowed the monster to live.  She had dreamt of becoming Rhaegar’s bride when she was young, but that too was for naught. Then, after blood and war, she had become the Queen.  She had been wed to the young, handsome, charming Robert Baratheon.  She could have been happy.  She could have loved him. Instead he had called her Lyanna has he claimed her body.

The only man whom she had ever trusted was Jaime, her twin, her heart.  Yet even he had abandoned her in her time of need.

Cersei turned uneasily upon her bed.  Sleep was refusing to come to her. She dared not call for another cup of dreamwine, as the first three had worn off without a whisper of sleep to ease her mind.

Her mind had not ceased turning since her conversation with Lord Stark had ended.  She worried that she had said too much.  She worried that he knew too much.

A part of her wished to run, as Lord Stark had suggested, to run to a place where she and her children could be safe, where she and Jaime could be together. A larger part of her refused to run, she was the queen and her son would be king. Eddard Stark could not overthrow her.  He could not defeat Tywin Lannister. He would never be able to tell his beloved Robert Baratheon the truth about her children. If Lancel did his job, King Robert’s days would surely be at an end.

Did she really have such faith in Lancel?  If Lancel failed her in his task... She shuddered at the thought.

“I will be free,” she hissed into the warm night air.  “You cannot take the crown from me Eddard Stark. You will not take it from my son.”

She was too tired to leave her bed.  Her mind was too full of stresses for her to sleep.

She turned from her back to her side, curling toward herself.  She wished for Jaime. She wished that he had never thrown the Stark boy from the tower in Winterfell.  She wished that he had not attacked Lord Stark. The King’s hunts had always been their time to spend with one another.  Instead, she was alone to face the wolves because her brother had made heedless decisions.

She awoke late in the morning when her handmaids were cleaning her bedchamber.  She had no idea when she had fallen asleep. One moment she had been awake and the next it was morning.  Food and drink were already laid out for her.

Her handmaids gave her a quick sponge bath, dressed her, and brushed out her hair before she sat at the table to eat.  She scarcely ate anything. Her anxieties made the food seem bland and stale.

How long could it possibly take for Robert to die?

Perhaps she was foolish for trusting her cousin to accomplish the task which she had set before him.

If Robert returned alive, and Ned was able to tell him the truth about her children... But would Ned’s suspicions be proof?  No, but her confession to Lord Stark would be proof enough.  She should have kept her silence.  She should have told him off in horror.  Jaime had always told her that pride would be her undoing.

“Neyen,” she called to one of her handmaids.  The slip of a girl appeared beside the table at once. “Have Lord Baelish meet me in my drawing room.”

The creature seemed out of sorts at the command. “Now your grace?”

Cersei raised a golden brow. Was everyone in the Red Keep a fool? “As soon as he can be found.  I do not want to be kept waiting long.”

 “Of course, your grace.” The girl bowed low and hurried from the room. Her robes fluttered behind her as though she were a little bird.

It was nearly four hours later when Lord Baelish arrived.  Cersei was strongly considering replacing Neyen with a girl who could follow orders more swiftly. Truly, Cersei had no complaints about how long it had been since she had sent the girl to find him.  In the time which had passed, she had finished eating her meal, and had finished dressing for the day.

She was seated upon a chaise one of her sitting rooms.  The room was filled with sunlight which entered the room through large open windows. The breeze was warm and strong, cooling the room on such a warm summer day. She was reading when Lord Baelish finally arrived. He smiled politely to her and bowed respectfully upon entering.

"Your grace, I apologize for the delay in my arrival. I was visiting the city this morning."

She set her book aside and gestured for him to be seated.  One of her handmaidens poured wine for Cersei and Lord Baelish. "At your brothels I do not doubt," she muttered.

“A man must earn his wage in whatever ways he can, your grace.” He favored her with a smile. She despised his smiles.  His smiles always seemed to condescend.  His eyes never seemed to reflect the emotions he was attempting to portray.  He sipped his wine slowly before he continued.  “How may I be of service?”

“Tell me Lord Baelish, has there been any word of my husband the king?” She did not bother with any sort of preamble or pretext.  She had not slept long enough for word games.

He raised a brow, likely in surprise though his face remained otherwise neutral. “There has been no word of the King since Prince Joffrey and the other members of the hunting party arrived.  Have you missed your husband so terribly?”

His lips spoke the words in jest, but she could feel the barb in them. “It is the realm for which I am concerned.  The Hand has been making many decisions of which the King must be informed.”

“Oh I am certain that the King has heard about some of Lord Stark’s decisions. Knowing his grace, that will only extend the hunting trip.”

Hopefully extending the trip would provide Lancel ample opportunity to rid the world of Robert Baratheon. “If that is his grace’s will then it shall be his will. Though I would rather not have this realm torn to pieces by the whims of Lord Stark.”

“I am uncertain Lord Stark is capable of acting upon a whim, your grace.  Though I have heard interesting tales of his actions of late.”

Did he know?  No, of course it could not know anything. “Meaning?”

“Are you aware that Prince Oberyn Martell is a guest of the Hand?”

“Of course I am.” Her reply was terse. She took no pleasure in the presence of the Dornish Prince within the walls of the Red Keep, but all reports indicated that he was merely visiting Lord Eddard.  What exactly that meant, she was uncertain.  Prince Oberyn knew the Stark bastards, but coming to visit them in King’s Landing was unusual. Cersei doubted that the men liked one another, not after the actions of Rhaegar Targaryen regarding Princess Elia and Lady Lyanna. And yet... could Winterfell and Dorne be plotting together against the crown?  Could they be working against her?  “I was told that Prince Oberyn is visiting Lord Stark and will be returning the bastards of the Hand to Dorne.”

“Will he?” Lord Baelish’s smirk returned.  She wished that she could remove that smile from him, permanently.

“Do you have something to tell me about them?” She kept her words sweet and calm.  It would not be to her benefit to return to seem disturbed by whatever Lord Littlefinger told her.

“It seems that all of Lord Stark’s children were spirited away yesterday with Lord Beric Dondarrion and a small company of riders.”

“All?” She could not keep the edge from her voice. For a moment it seemed as though there was no air in the room.

He bowed solemnly, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Lord Eddard remains, as do his men.  Prince Oberyn and his men are still here as well.  The Ladies Sansa and Arya, as well as the bastards of Lord Stark are all gone.  They were last seen heading south.”

Her limbs felt suddenly heavy.  He must have sent away the children before meeting with her.  He had said that he wanted the children to be safe.  He had said that he wanted her children to be safe as well.

Fleeing the capital seemed even more tempting in that moment.  Cersei had heard many stories about the deaths of Elia Martell and her children. She could not imagine her own children in such a state.  The very idea stole the air from her lungs and seized her heart.

Yet she knew that her father would not see his daughter or grandchildren die without a fight.  Dorne was weak and the North was leagues away. Casterly Rock could muster its armies faster and in greater force than either of those kingdoms. The throne was hers. The throne was her son’s.

“Thank you for bringing that to my attention Lord Baelish.” She hoped that her voice seemed convincingly calm. “Tell me, if Lord Stark and Prince Oberyn Martell were to attempt to wrest control of the city away from the king and myself, are we able to be protected?”

He seemed intrigued at the notion. “I do not believe that Lord Stark would betray his friend, the king.  However, my queen, you should rest assured that you are safe. There are thousands of gold cloaks who can and will protect you, your grace, from any threat you may face.”

Something in Lord Littlefinger’s voice betrayed a lack of confidence in the friendship between Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon.  Did Littlefinger know the truth about her children?  She cursed Jaime for leaving her alone.

“My father once served as Hand to King Aerys.  They had been friends in their youth as Lord Eddard and King Robert were.  Wouldn’t you agree that friendships can end?”

His lips quirked into a twisted smile.  “Of that I am well aware.”

“Then understand me well, Lord Baelish. I am the Queen, it is my duty to ensure the safety of the kingdom for the sake of my children. You are our master of coin, as such you are responsible for financing the gold cloaks.”

“As you say, your grace.”

“And you are paid by myself and my family are you not?”

He bowed in agreement. “I am, your grace.”

She smiled at him, a lion’s smile. “I do hope that you will remember my father’s wealth and tendency to crush any who would seek to harm his family should any need arise which would lend itself toward using the gold cloaks for the protection of myself and my children.”

He finished his drink and smiled. “Your grace can rest assured that I remember such things perpetually.”

“Then we are done here, Lord Baelish.”

He stood and bowed deeply to her.  “Your grace.”

She watched him leave and sipped her wine.  She felt oddly at peace.  Lancel would assist Robert Baratheon to his grave. The gold cloaks would protect herself and her children should Lord Stark or the Dornish Prince attempt to move against her.  Joffrey, her precious boy, would be king.  She stood and walked to the window.  The breeze tugged at her hair and she smiled. Perhaps she finally had found a man or two upon whom she could rely. With her eyes closed, she began to hum to herself.

_‘And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am sorry for the delay, I've been super busy. (I wrote nothing for over a week because I really had no time to sit at my computer!) Originally this was going to be split between Cersei and the children going south, but since it took me so long to write this part I decided to split the two POVs, which seems to have worked better for dramatic emphasis anyway. Good news is that I did the outline for the story since the last update!
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, following, etc... you are wonderful and I am glad that you are patient with me!


	11. The Shape of Things to Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue/scenes again from A Game of Thrones by GRRM! I don't believe in disclaimers but I also don't want to be accused of not citing my sources!

In the dark of the night, ill news arrived. The king’s steward brought word that the king wished to see Eddard Stark. Ned was assisted by his men, Tomard and Cayn, from the Tower of the Hand to Maegor’s Holdfast. At the holdfast and inside, they passed Sers Boros Blount, Preston Greenfield, and Ser Barristan Selmy of the kingsguard. Eventually they reached, and were admitted into, the king’s chambers.

Inside Ned found his friend, Robert Baratheon, upon his deathbed. Grand Maester Pycelle was attending the King. The Queen was seated near her husband, her face displaying concern. She seemed to be rather awake for such a late hour. Lord Renly was inside the room as well, pacing with a nervous energy. Countless servants were hurrying about the room, assisting the maester.

Ned looked upon his friend and his heart broke.  The king was wounded from hip to breast, ripped open by the tusks of a boar. They spoke briefly before Robert dismissed everyone except for Ned. Robert had a change of heart regarding Daenerys Targaryen. He had ordered for an assassin to be sent to kill the girl. Robert claimed that the gods had sent the boar as a punishment for the order, and told Ned that the girl should be spared if at all possible. Then he had Ned write out the writ of succession.

The king named Ned as Protector of the Realm and Regent for Joffrey, until the boy was to come of age. Ned could not bear to tell his friend the truth about his presumed children. He could not hurt his friend as he lay dying.

When the order was written, with Ned writing “my heir” in place of “my son”, Ned reopened the door to the king’s chamber. The servants returned, as did Renly and the Maester who witnessed the seal upon the letter. King Robert’s last request was for Ned to take care of his children. Ned promised him, pained by lying, until he thought upon the king’s bastards whom he could protect.

Pycelle gave Robert milk of the poppy to drink and the king drifted off the sleep.

Ned and Renly left the room where they briefly spoke with Ser Barristan and Varys. They spoke of the hunt where Robert had been wounded. Renly was awed by his brother killing the boar though he was mortally wounded. Ser Barristan seemed distraught that he had been unable to protect the king. Ned assured the man that it was not his fault that Robert had chosen to hunt a boar while too drunk to stand straight. When Varys asked who had given the wine to the king, he learned that the wine had come from Lancel Lannister, the Queen’s cousin.

They had given Ned much to ponder, but for the moment he wanted nothing more to be alone. He made his way back to the entrance of Maegor’s Holdfast. Varys slipped away some time before they arrived at the bridge, and Ser Barristan had remained at the door to the king’s chamber.

Ned’s men were assisting him across the bridge when Renly emerged from the keep as well.  He approached and asked that they might speak alone. Ned agreed and sent his men away. Tomard and Cayn bowed their heads and walked to the end of the bridge, far enough away that they could not overhear whatever Lord Renly wished to say.  Lord Renly’s gaze flitted from Ser Boros to Ser Preston, who stood at either end of the bridge, before he moved closer to whisper to Ned.

“That letter is about the regency isn’t it?  My brother has named you Lord Protector?” He did not pause for an affirmative answer.  “My lord, I have thirty men in my personal guard, and other friends beside, knights and lords.  Give me an hour, and I can put a hundred swords in your hand.”

Swords?  What would he need of swords?  Ned’s closest friend was at death’s door, he wanted to mourn, not fight.  “And what should I do with a hundred swords, my lord?”

“Strike, now while the castle sleeps.”  His voice was hushed, yet fevered.  He still glanced warily at the two kingsguard.  He suggested that Eddard should take Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella into custody as prisoners in order to control Cersei and the council.

Ned thought of Robert, his friend, near death though he was fighting hard to remain alive.  He thought about the Targaryen children who had been pulled from their beds and murdered the last time the matter of succession was overthrown.  “Robert is upon his deathbed and you want me to drag children from their beds?”

“Every moment that you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare.  She is no friend to you or I.  If we wait until Robert dies...”  He shifted anxiously again and his eyes froze upon an approaching figure who was walking across the courtyard of the Red Keep.

Prince Oberyn Martell, just the man whom Ned did not want to see at that moment.  “Oberyn,” Ned spoke up in greeting.  “Why are you here?”

The man approached the bridge, causing Ned’s men and the Kingsguard to notice his presence.  “You do recall that I cannot sleep in this place.  I was taking a walk when I heard an unpleasant rumor and wanted to see what I could learn.  By your presence, I would venture to guess that the rumor is true.”

Ned glanced between the two men and could almost see the plans they were weaving in their own minds.  Ned’s leg was throbbing in pain and his heart was weary.  He wanted nothing to do with plots, schemes, and the follies of kings.  “Lord Renly,” Ned said as Oberyn drew near.  “May I introduce you to Prince Oberyn Martell.”

“Prince Oberyn.”  Renly’s greeting was stiff but polite.  He seemed to be measuring something in his mind.

“Lord Renly,” Oberyn replied.  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though the circumstances must be upsetting for yourself.”

The Lord of Storm’s End bowed his head in acknowledgement of Oberyn’s greeting.  He then turned to face Ned.  “Would he do it?”

Ned knew the answer.  It was all that Dorne had been seeking for years, revenge.  If Oberyn Martell was not there, beside him or within the Red Keep, Ned could make a different choice.  With the Red Viper beside him, the only option was to betray his friend, again.  A brief consideration for how fleeting honor, honesty, and loyalty had become passed through Ned’s mind.  How had he become the man he was?  Little by little, bit by bit, the quiet young man who had tried to be good, honorable, and honest had made so many compromises that the bitter taste never quite left his mouth.  He would have to side with Renly, but would they have enough men to do the deed?  If they captured the Lannister children, would they be able to hold them captive? What would the next step be?

Ned’s answer was firm and bitter. “You will win the love of Dorne when his sister is avenged and Tywin Lannister is brought to his knees.  Is that what you are prepared to do?”

Oberyn’s eyes glittered in the dim light of torches and the full moon.  He looked between the two men, appraising the situation in silence.  Renly considered both men, and bowed his head in thought. Ned looked down, seeing the writ of succession which he clutched in his hand.

Queen Cersei’s children were bastards, no true heirs to King Robert. Ned had written the words “my heir” instead of “my son” in the order of the regency.  Should the regency pass to a Baratheon heir, the crown should go to Stannis Baratheon, the second of Lord Steffon Baratheon’s sons. Yet Dorne would only be appeased if their blood was upon the throne.

“Do it,” Ned hissed through clenched teeth. Both men turned to face him abruptly.  Renly’s face betrayed his shock and Oberyn’s smile spoke of bloodshed. “Gather your men and take the Queen and her children into custody.”  He wanted to vomit, everything about this decision seemed wrong.  “Once you have them secured, I shall convene the council to hear your brother’s words and discuss the matter of the succession.”

Ned looked upon Renly, a reflection of his brother Robert so long ago, and was filled with cold fury. “Pray that your brother can forgive this dishonor we do to him upon his deathbed.”

Renly’s lips twitched, though with what emotion Ned did not know or care.  “My brother cared little for anyone save himself, in life or in death, but I thank you for your decision.”

They parted a moment later. Renly went to seek out his allies and gather them to seize the Queen and her children.  Prince Oberyn walked with Ned, though they remained quiet until arriving at the Tower of the Hand. Once Ned and Oberyn were alone in the solar, Ned sank wearily onto the plush chair behind the desk.  His leg was throbbing and his heart was hollow.  He prayed that his children were safe, wherever they were.  He prayed that the gods would forgive his betrayals.

“My men will assist Lord Renly,” Oberyn was saying, though his words scarcely registered to Ned’s distressed mind.  “But to what end?”

Ned ran his hands along his face and through his hair. “Only the gods know. If you want to avenge your sister, this is the time. When the small council convenes they will know all that I know.”

“All?” Doubt was evident in the prince’s voice.

The unspoken question was clear to Ned. Did he mean to reveal the truth about Jon? “Not that.” He had promised Lyanna to keep Jon safe. Jon would only be safe if he remained the bastard son of the Lord of Winterfell and Ashara Dayne. Jon of House Targaryen, the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, could never exist. “They will learn the truth of Cersei Lannister and her children. They will know that the Kingslayer attempted to murder my son and that their actions led to the hostilities in the Riverlands.”

“Do we have enough support to hold the city against the Queen, against her father?”

“I will send for Lord Baelish, he wields considerable sway over the gold cloaks.  If we are to hold the city, then we need more swords.” Ned slammed his hand onto the desk, causing one of the inkwells to tip and spill. He hissed a curse. “Would that I had never come to this place.”

Oberyn watched in silence for a few brief moments, and then smiled. “I was wrong to tell Ashara that you were a boring man.” Then in somber tones he added, “I will send a man for Lord Baelish and then rouse my men.” He bowed politely and then swept from the room.

Eddard Stark was now alone with his thoughts, and truly there was no more frightful place for him at that moment. He wished for a godswood, a true godswood, with a weirwood heart tree.  Yet would the gods give him solace?  Was he still a good man? Was he still an honorable man?

His best friend, his third brother, would die before a day passed. Yet even as his friend lay dying, the legacy of Robert Baratheon was being destroyed.  Ned had promised Robert to watch over his children, and Ned would do that.  Once there was peace, Ned would ensure that Robert’s bastards were well kept.

Peace... what price would peace cost this time? How many children would be murdered? How many children would be orphaned?

He hated Lyanna and Rhaegar in that moment. He hated his brother Brandon. He hated the Mad King and the Kingslayer. He hated Robert and Cersei. Most of all he hated himself for making decisions which seemed to never have a good ending.

The ache of loss threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to go home. He wanted Winterfell. He wanted Catelyn in his arms. He wanted his children around him, all of his children. He wanted to see them laugh and play together. Only the gods knew if he would ever see his family again.

Some time later, Cayn and Desmond arrived with Littlefinger between them. From his attire, it seemed as though he had already been about for the day when Ned’s men had found him.  Were Ned less exhausted, such a thing might have seemed curious to him.

Lord Petyr seated himself across from Ned, a smirk upon his lips. “The whisperers in the Red Keep are telling fascinating tales tonight. I suppose that congratulations are in order.”

“The king lies wounded and near to death.” Ned’s reply was cold and harsh, this was not a moment for levity.

“I know, and I know that Robert named you Protector of the Realm.”

“And how is it that you know that, my lord?”

“Varys hinted as much, and you have just confirmed it.”

Ned swore. He was so sick of games, and yet... if Littlefinger did not know of the plan which had been devised to detain the queen and her children, then perhaps some secrets were still kept for the moment. Weighing his options, Ned decided to have some trust in this man whom his wife considered as a little brother. He told Petyr the truth about the bastardy of the queen’s children. Littlefinger’s response showed that he was not at all shocked by the news.

“So with no legitimate heirs, the path of succession becomes quite tenuous does it not?”

Ned tensed his jaw. “By rights the succession should pass to Stannis.”

“Should...” Petyr stretched the word out, allowing the syllables to seem ponderous. “However, Stannis cannot take the throne without help.”

Ned was well aware of that fact. He was also well aware that Stannis sitting upon the throne would not appease Dorne, and if Dorne were not appeased... Had he sent his children into a prison? Would Prince Doran Martell hold his children as hostages to ensure that Dorne’s vengeance was complete?

Treason... every possible move was treason. Usurping the throne as his friend lay dying; what had he become?

“Is that why you have asked me here, Lord Stark, for assistance?”

“You promised Catelyn that you would help me.”  The man’s eyes narrowed, as they had upon their first meeting. Ned did not like Lord Baelish’s frosty and almost possessive nature toward Catelyn.  Ned’s mistakes regarding his wife were his to bear.  It was not another man’s duty to protect his wife, no matter what mistakes he had made.

His smile seemed bitter. “And I shall, Lord Stark. First I will tell you that Stannis Baratheon is not the right man for the Iron Throne. He is no man’s friend, even his brothers find him distasteful. He is hard and unyielding. Seating him upon the throne would spell death for Cersei and her bastards, and arouse the anger of Lord Tywin.” He spoke of the men and Houses who would not side with Stannis Baratheon as king, men who had sided with the Targaryens during Robert’s Rebellion or Balon Greyjoy in his Rebellion. He also spoke of the benefits Ned could have by marrying his own children to the Queen’s bastards.  Yet Ned knew that he could not and would not marry his children to the Lannister bastards, unless...

“You can control Joffrey,” Lord Baelish was saying, “He is but a boy, and controlling him should allow us time to dispose of any unwanted issues. Then, should he prove troublesome, we can reveal his little secret and put Lord Renly upon the throne.”

Renly upon the throne?  It might work, could work. Renly Baratheon was well loved, and were he to be placed upon the throne, many would support him. He was unwed and so was the Heiress of Dorne, a marriage which would appease the Dornish. A match which would keep his children safe.

“I will not wed my children to the Lannisters.  I will not seek to put my children in harm’s way or upon this bloody throne. What you suggest is treason.” What I am doing now, as we speak, is treason. “Dorne will not stand for the bastard sitting upon the throne.”

“You informed the viper of the truth?” Littlefinger released a scoffing laugh. Then he sighed. “I suppose that the Tyrells will not wish to see Joffrey upon the throne either.”  Seeing the question in Ned’s eyes, he produced an unsealed parchment and laid it upon the desk, though he did not remove his hand. “With the good Maester Pycelle occupied with the king, the ravens are quite free to deliver letters.  This arrived earlier this evening and was discovered by an associate of mine. I presume that the maester was intending to inform the Queen in the morning, long before telling you.  The Mountain is dead, from the men you sent to bring him to justice.  Loras Tyrell struck the killing blow, but he himself was killed in the process. Lord Tywin will find it difficult to placate the anger of the Tyrells now that their son lies dead.  Now then, whom would you suggest that we place upon the Iron Thone?”

Ned clenched his fists beneath the desk. There were no words to describe how vile he felt. “It was your suggestion, Lord Baelish, we place Renly Baratheon upon the throne.” Petyr Baelish smiled, truly smiled, at Ned’s words. “Renly would be supported by myself, the Stormlands, and likely the Martells, Tyrells, Riverlands, and Vale.”

“An alliance which not even Tywin Lannister could possibly withstand, provided that every House falls into line behind Renly.”

“King’s Landing must be secured first and foremost.”

“For that you would need many swords.” Littlefinger’s smile grew impossibly wide. “And to guarantee so many swords, you have come to the man who pays the most swords in the city. Tell me Lord Stark, do you already have some plan in action?”

What should a man do when he is trapped between honor and dishonor? When trapped between truth and lies? Brandon had impulsively chosen to defend Lyanna without a second thought. Rhaegar had thrown away honor, duty, and marriage for a mere girl and the realm had bled. What was Ned when compared to his own brother and sister? Would his choices now make the realm bleed as theirs had done so many years before?

“At this very moment the queen and her children are being secured. I intend to call the council together so that the succession can be discussed. I know however, that you are a man who has a price.  What price would it take to secure the gold cloaks to this cause?”

“Oh for them, a few thousand gold, a small price to avoid losing our heads.”

“And for you?”

“I am certain that Lord Renly will give me anything of my choosing once he is given a throne, don’t you agree?” Ned bowed his head low, in agreement and disgust. “Then I will be on my way, Lord Stark.”

The man stood, bowed, and departed the room.

When he was alone, Ned cradled his head in his hands and wept. “Gods forgive me,” he whispered into the quiet of his chamber.

* * *

King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, was dead by the time they convened within the Tower of the Hand. Morning had just barely broken, grey and dull. The birds were singing beyond the walls of the tower, but their tones seemed joyless.

The men arrived one by one, in various states of dress and attire. Prince Oberyn Martell's clothes were bloodied. Lord Renly Baratheon's clothes were slightly torn, and his cheek was bruised. Lord Petyr Baelish arrived with Janos Slynt, the commander of the city watch, both seeming fresh and clean compared to the first two men. Varys slipped into the room silently, as he was always wont to do, his face seemed as ominous as ever. Grand Maester Pycelle and Ser Barristan Semly arrived awhile after the other men. Neither appeared to have slept much during the night and their faces were lined with age and exhaustion.

Eddard Stark wearily requested that all of the men be seated, to which they all complied.

"Is it done," Ned asked Renly and Oberyn, before addressing the rest of the council.

Renly gave a terse nod of the head. "They are unharmed and under guard," Oberyn replied.

"Whom, may I ask, is unharmed and under guard?" The question came from Ser Barristan, who had probably noted the state of Renly and Oberyn's attire.

"With the," Ned paused, the words catching in his throat. He breathed deeply before continuing. "With the passing of King Robert it is necessary for us to discuss the succession of the crown." He proceeded to read the writ of succession and explain the truth of Cersei Lannister's children. The only men who seemed surprised by the revelation were Ser Barristan and Janos Slynt. Pycelle protested vehemently that such an accusation was spurious.

It took several minutes of loud discussion and debate for the room to fall quiet again. “I heard it from Lady Cersei herself.” Ned’s voice was calm and level. “The persons who are under guard are the former queen and her children. Regarding this matter, it would be judicious to hold a trial. For the moment, I believe that we all wish to know more about their dispositions."

"Tommen and Myrcella are sequestered together," Renly replied quietly. "They are with one of their nursemaids and guarded by some of my personal guard. They only know that my brother was wounded, they know nothing more."

Prince Oberyn replied next. "Cersei and her son Joffrey are held by my men."

Ned regarded the Viper doubtfully. "Why is there blood on your clothing?"

"I had a minor dispute with one of the former queen's men. He is dead now, as are several more of her personal guards."

Ned swore under his breath, and he noticed that he was not alone in his distress. Pycelle protested the actions of the men. Oberyn eyed the maester as though he were deciding how best to stick him with a sword. Ser Barristan remained quiet and unreadable.

Eventually, the discussion of whom the next king should be arose. Ned bitterly recalled that he had been in such a discussion before, when his friend Robert was crowned. He allowed Littlefinger to make the suggestion in favor of Lord Renly, though it was a long time in coming.

Baelish, Varys, and Renly discussed. Pycelle protested. Ned spoke little, though he offered his support in favor of Lord Renly. Oberyn Martell observed the proceedings carefully, with narrowed eyes. Eventually, he too suggested that Dorne might support Renly, though there would need to be some considerations. The other two men simply observed, Barristan stoically and Janos Slynt appearing as though he were a fish out of water.

By midday, the decision was made to crown Renly Baratheon as King of Westeros. Letters were sent to the Kingdoms of Westeros, declaring the death of King Robert, the bastardization of the children of the former Queen Cersei, and the ascension of Renly as the new king.

The remainder of the day was spent subduing the city, writing letters, and affirming the positions of the council. Ser Barristan Selmy was requested to retain his position; to which he requested and was permitted, a day to consider his future. Grand Maester Pycelle was detained as a prisoner, removed from his position, and deemed untrustworthy. Lord Varys was retained as Master of Whisperers, seemingly unaffected by the change in authority. Lord Baelish was pleased to retain his position and to be granted his price. His demand was rather simple, a greater lordship and a highborn wife, once peace was reestablished, to which Renly readily agreed.

Ned, though he had no greater wish than to return home, was retained in his position due to his assistance with Renly’s ascension.  Prince Oberyn was granted a position on the council as well, for the same reasons.

Securing the city was a bloody job. Over three hundred men who claimed loyalty to Cersei Lannister died within the Red Keep and King’s Landing that day. Among the dead were Ser Meryn Trant, of the Kingsguard, and Sandor Clegane. More than one hundred other men were killed in the fighting that day, including two of Prince Oberyn’s guards who died in subduing Clegane.

A matter of alliances was among the first order of duties, after the city was secured. Renly wrote to his retainers in the Stormlands, calling them to arms in his support.  Ned wrote to Winterfell, calling his men to support the Riverlands first, as Lannister forces had been reported as fighting Tully men in the Riverlands.  Once the Riverlands were supported, the northern forces would be able to assist in the south. He also wrote to his wife’s family, stating that the North would support the Riverlands as kinsmen, and hoped that they would bend to Renly as king.  He wrote similarly to Lysa Arryn in the Vale.

When Ned was alone with Oberyn and Renly, he spoke with them at length about the need for a southern alliance. An alliance bound in marriage to keep the strength of the south united as had been done during Robert’s Rebellion with Houses Stark, Tully, and Arryn. Renly seemed reluctant to discuss the idea of marriage, but he also seemed to understand the importance. Letters were sent to Prince Doran Martell and Lord Mace Tyrell requesting not only their allegiance, but a marriage pact.

Ned did not doubt that the Martells would wish to see Arianne upon the throne, in place of her kin who had been murdered by the Lannisters. He also did not doubt that the ever ambitious Tyrells would wish for their daughter Margaery to be crowned as the queen. The details were not Ned’s concern, though he doubted there would be peace if the Tyrells chose to join Lord Tywin over King Renly. The goal would be to wed Baratheon, Martell, and Tyrell, in whatever way the lords so decided.

* * *

Meanwhile in the North, Robb Stark, acting as Lord of Winterfell in his father’s stead, had already begun to call his bannermen to arms. Lady Catelyn Stark had sent a letter to Winterfell, from the Vale, requesting that the North aid Riverrun against Lannister aggression. As a son of the North and the Riverlands, Robb knew that his duty was to support his family in the south. The northern armies would begin their march south a fortnight after receiving Lord Stark’s letters regarding Renly Baratheon’s ascension to the throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to everyone who is following this story, much love.  
> I know that I said the next chapter was the kids, but this made more sense to do first for a variety of reasons.
> 
> Littlefinger's decisions here are based upon his actual suggestions in AGOT. I didn't change that much of his dialogue or Renly's. He is also very strongly influenced (here) against the Lannisters based upon the death of Loras. Ned's decisions here were more based upon the safety of his children, and I hope that I conveyed how hard the decisions he made were for him.
> 
> I post on archive of our own and fanfiction.net, so some of these notes apply to one place more than the other:  
> I've had a couple people note different grammar/typos/random things I mess up... I don't have a beta. I write, I proofread, and then I post. I am not opposed to having a beta, I just don't have one. Feel free to offer?  
> I follow the books, not the tv show for this story and most of my stories. So characters like Syrio are described as they are in the books. The ages are the ages of the books unless otherwise noted. (I do watch the show... and this coming season scares me... and they're gonna replace the Stark sigil on Winterfell and I am not ok with that!)  
> I am terrible with ages/years/dates (in real life, which translates into stories) so I may confuse how old some characters are at different times. I have already done this with Alys I think twice. Math is not my friend.  
> On fanfic I have a picture for the cover image that is Ned/Ashara/Cat and the children minus Jon, when I figure out how to post it on archive I will do that too.
> 
> To anyone who is also reading my other stories, I have not abandoned any of them, for the moment I want to focus upon this story.


	12. Interlude

The grey-black walls of Blackhaven rose in the distance after nearly three weeks of riding. Were it not for the knowledge that they had essentially fled the capital, returning to a familiar place would have been a welcome respite. To make matters worse, Jon had never seen girls so miserable as his sisters and Jeyne Poole. Alysanne was trying her hardest to make the other girls happy, but she was probably the moodiest of them all.

He felt badly for Alys. She had spent the least amount of time with their father, even though she had wanted to see him so strongly. Yet she had done her duty in gathering everything the girls would need for their journey. She had not complained, not even when Prince Oberyn had told them that their father had commanded them south, along with their half-sisters. Arthur had complained, but he had enjoyed the busyness of the capital and had little desire to return south. Even Jon had enjoyed King’s Landing. He had spent a great amount of time speaking with Lord Renly Baratheon, Ser Loras Tyrell, and several other knights and minor lords during his stay in the capital. He was thinking of asking his mother if he could learn to be a knight for one of the lords in the Stormlands or Reach.

The closer they drew to Blackhaven, they could see several hundred tents surrounding the castle. Drawing nearer, the banners which flew above the tents could be seen. Houses whose loyalty was to House Dondarrion were encamped by the thousands around the castle. As they passed the soldiers, some of them recognized Lord Dondarrion at the head of their small group, and cheered.

The gates were open to their approach. Inside the walls, they were warmly greeted by Rylan Dondarrion, Lord Beric’s younger brother. Yet while his greeting was kind, the younger Dondarrion appeared to be anxious. It was a few short moments after they were within Blackhaven that Lord Beric dismounted from his steed and walked from the group with his brother. The rest of the group was assisted by stewards, grooms, and attendants. Their horses were taken to the stables while their belongings were taken into the castle. Finally, they were all escorted inside to be shown where they would be staying.

The children of the group, consisting of Jon, Arthur, Alysanne, Edric, Sansa, Arya, and Jeyne Poole, were given rooms in the eastern wing of the castle. The rooms were all close to one another, with bed chambers, sitting rooms, and a shared dining hall.

Jon was fairly certain that he had stayed in the same set of rooms with his family before, when they had visited Blackhaven with Aunt Allyria. Their shared dining hall was already laid with food and drink so that they might refresh after their journey. They chose their own bed chambers and went in them to rest, refresh, and change out of their travel clothes before eating.

The bed chamber Jon had chosen was airy and spacious. He did not have many clothes with him, having left most everything behind in King’s Landing save what he needed most. Not that he had taken much to King’s Landing from Starfall to begin with. He and Arthur had taken much of their winnings from the tournament and archery contests with them from King’s Landing, but had also left a great amount behind in the safe keeping of the Hand and Red Viper.

He stripped out of his dirty clothes, filled a wash basin with the water from a pitcher on the stand in a corner of the room, and used a sponge to clean away the filth of travel. It was a relief to be clean again after days on end of riding in the hot summer sun. He had been able to handle the days of riding well. His half-sister, Sansa, and her friend Jeyne had been considerably less pleasant about the days of riding.

Neither of his half-sisters had been happy to learn that their father had sent them from the city. They had both been angry and suspicious, even after Lord Beric had shown them their father’s letter. Lord Stark had explained that sending them from the city without any word was for their own safety, as King’s Landing was growing too dangerous for their presence.

Arya had attempted to ride back on two separate occasions. After that, she had been forced to ride double. She would ride with Alysanne for a few hours and then with Arthur or Jon. Arya had at least seemed to enjoy the riding. She was also pleased that Syrio Forel had chosen to accompany them as well. She was finally allowed to ride on her own again after a solid week of riding doubled with one of her siblings. Her mood had improved since she had been riding on her own again. She had spent much of her time speaking with Edric, Arthur, Syrio, and Alysanne.

Sansa and Jeyne had not resisted the journey, though both had complained greatly in the beginning. After a week, they had become mostly silent companions in the journey. Jon and Alys were occasionally able to elicit smiles from the girls, but otherwise there was not much they could do to improve their moods.

After washing, Jon found some clean clothes in his travel bags and dressed. It was a pleasant feeling to be clean and in clean clothing again. He left the room so that he might eat. Edric and Arya were already seated at the table, filling their mouths with the piles of food.

“Don’t make yourself sick, little sister,” Jon said with a laugh.

She grinned at him. She had not bothered washing or changing out of her travel clothes. “I won’t. Edric promised to show me around the castle.”

Jon seated himself beside her and laughed as he grabbed some of the food for himself. “You should both change and wash before you explore the castle. Instead of a Lord and a highborn girl they might mistake you for serving staff!”

“Why would we change before we explore,” Arya complained, not hindered by his rebuke. “All we will have to do is change again when we return and I don’t have many clothes.”

Edric nodded in agreement with Arya. “Besides which, they know me here as the Lord of Starfall.”

“Aye, they do, Lord Dayne,” Jon replied with a laugh. “I was only teasing. What do you want to show my little sister?”

“The gallery and the storm tower so that she can see the mountains of Dorne.”

“Are the mountains in Dorne really red?”

“They are,” Jon replied, a bit wistful at the thought of home.

She pursed her lips together, pondering. “Why?”

Edric looked at her as though she had asked the strangest question ever uttered. Jon merely shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps the maesters do?”

Edric and Arya smiled at one another conspiratorially. “We should go see Maester Wyman when we are done eating,” he suggested.

She pushed away from the table, a crust of bread still in her hand. “I’m done.”

All three of them laughed. Edric grabbed a roll, drained his glass of water, and stood. He then led the rather impatient Arya from the room.

Arthur emerged from his room not too long after their departure. He joined Jon at the table, and also helped himself to the food. They spoke as they ate. When he was finished, Arthur informed him that he was going to rest for an hour or so. Jon was glad of that, for he had decided that he wanted time alone in the castle gardens to think and reflect.

The gardens within the castle walls were watered from springs within the castle. From the springs canals and channels had been made to direct the water into the castle and through the gardens. It was a peaceful, quiet place, where the herbs grew sweet and the birds nested in the trees.

Jon seated himself beneath a cedar tree and breathed in the cool air of the gardens. He thought back to King’s Landing, to Prince Oberyn’s last words to him. The Prince’s commands had been straightforward and simple, until his last request to Jon alone.

“When you see my brother, tell him that it is time. He will understand what I mean. Now go, take your sisters to safety in Dorne.”

Jon had no idea what Prince Oberyn could have meant by “it is time”, but he would do his duty, as was expected of him.

He also thought upon their sudden departure from King’s Landing. What had their father been doing that caused him to send them all south? Was whatever he had done the reason for all of the bannermen who were encamped outside of Blackhaven?

If it had just been Jon and his brother and sister, he would have assumed that that their father no longer wanted them around. Yet they had all been sent at the same time from King’s Landing with Lord Beric and his men as escorts. Not that Jon thought his father capable of sending away his children for no reason. In the time they had spent together, Lord Stark had always been available to speak with each of his children. He had asked Jon about his interests, goals, and plans for the future.

Jon had answered his father truthfully, he had not put much thought into his future. Jon knew that in a few years Edric would be an adult and receive all of his rights as Lord of Starfall, and he could remove Jon and his siblings from Starfall if he so chose. Not that Edric would ever do such a thing, but it was within his rights. Jon knew that House Martell would welcome him into their service. He knew that he wanted to be a knight, but beyond that he had not thought much upon the future.

Well... other than Tyene. He had thought about the future he could have with her. He had thought of marrying her, of raising a family with her. Yet he had no idea what she truly wanted. Did she still want him or had her interests moved on to someone else? He hoped that she still wanted him. He wanted to see her again, to kiss her, to tell her that being apart hurt worse than anything else in the world.

Did any of that truly matter? Even if she did love him, they were just bastards. He had no lands or titles and would have none unless they were granted to him by a lord such as his father or her uncle. He could earn titles and glory as a knight. He could be worth of her hand.

In the midst of his reverie, Taele, one of the maids approached him. She was around seventeen years of age, a lovely girl who was in service to Cerin Dondarrion, the younger sister of Beric and Rylan. He had spoken with her on several visits between Allyria and Beric. She was pretty, and at times Jon thought she knew how lovely she was to look upon. Yet her beauty could not compare to the one he loved.

"Hello Jon, Lord Beric wants to speak with you. It seems quite urgent."

He stood quickly, knowing that Lord Beric would probably be telling them why the soldiers were at the castle. At least, that was his assumption.  “Thank you, shall I go to Lord Beric’s solar?”

“Aye, the larger one near the library.”

“Thank you Taele.”

With that, he bowed his head to acknowledge her words, and walked away. The walk to the solar was not terribly far, and he knew the halls relatively well. When he arrived, Alysanne, Arthur, Edric, Lord Beric, Lord Rylan, and Lady Cerin were all present. He wondered why they were gathering, but he learned nothing until his half-sisters arrived as well.

“I know that we have just arrived,” Lord Beric began, “However, letters arrived here during our journey south which will require our immediate attention. It seems that since our departure from King’s Landing that King Robert Baratheon died due to wounds which he sustained during his hunt.”

Jon heard Sansa and Lady Cerin gasp. That King Robert had died so suddenly, truly was a shock. He listened as Lord Beric continued.

“It seems that upon the King’s death that a coup was staged.”

To that, Arthur, Jon, and Arya all tried to speak at once but were silenced by Lord Beric.

“The coup ousted the former Queen Cersei, and her children. They have been decried as bastards born of incest between the Lady Cersei and her twin brother Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.”

Arya muttered something under her breath, at which Sansa looked both nauseous and offended. Their quiet bickering was silenced as they learned more.

“Lord Renly Baratheon has been declared King of the Seven Kingdoms. He has the support of your father, Lord Eddard of House Stark, Prince Doran of House Martell, and Lord Mace of House Tyrell.  King Renly has also called his bannermen to arms and all of his lords are to send forces to support him in King’s Landing.”

“Did father really support Lord Renly,” Sansa questioned.

Lord Beric bowed his head affirmatively. “His seal and signature are affixed to the decree of succession, Lady Sansa.”

Alysanne gazed at Lord Beric, puzzled. “Isn’t Lord, or rather King, Renly the third son? What of Lord Stannis Baratheon?”

He sighed. “There is no mention of Lord Stannis. Though I can tell you that he is a wearisome man, and would make a terrible king. Oh he would be a better ruler than King Robert was, but in the end someone would slit his throat in his sleep for being so harsh and unbending. Renly is a good man, and will be a good king if we can keep the throne in his favor.”

There was silence in the room as the children stared at Lord Beric with wide eyes and open mouths. It was seldom that a person was so blunt before them, especially regarding such weighty concerns.

“House Dondarrion is sword to Storm’s End and, by virtue of that fact, to King Renly. It is our solemn duty to support and defend our liege lord. As such, I shall be sending our forces to King’s Landing. Rylan will be departing from Blackhaven with our assembled bannermen two days hence. I shall be departing at the same time with some of my men to meet with the Dornish and Reach forces which are assembling at Nightsong. I will be leading the swords from Starfall after I wed Lady Allyria at Nightsong. After we are wed, she will come here to be established as the Lady of Blackhaven. The Lady Ashara and Lucas will be arriving with her.”

He paused for a moment, allowing the children to absorb everything that he had told them.

“As for the rest of you, Jon, you will be departing on the morrow. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn have both sent letters requiring your presence at Sunspear. You will be travelling to Wyl where you will take a ship to Sunspear.”

“Alysanne, you have been appointed as the guardian for your half-sisters. You, the Ladies Sansa and Arya, as well as any other guests, have been invited to stay at the Water Gardens until all hostilities have ceased. You are also welcomed to remain here until your Lady Mother, brother, and aunt arrive. I would give you leave to remain here, however I believe that the invitation to the Water Gardens should not be turned down. It would be prudent for all of you to write to your parents regarding your health and safety now that you are here. I would, however, discourage you from mentioning where you are as we are at war and ravens can quite easily be intercepted.”

He did not say much more, though he did answer their questions and allow each of them to read the letters that he had received.

The swiftness of their departure from King’s Landing now made sense, however it did not explain all of the questions which had filled Jon’s head. Nor did it explain why he was needed in Sunspear. Yet he would go as he was commanded, for that was his duty. He also hoped that maybe he could see Tyene again when he reached the capital of Dorne.

Jon departed from Blackhaven the following day with an escort of ten men. Parting had been difficult. He knew that, with the coming war, he might not see them again. Arthur and Edric were going to be riding with Lord Beric into battle. Jon assumed that he too would join the armies at King’s Landing.

He might have been young, but he was not so foolish as to believe that he could not die in battle. So they had hugged and kissed in parting, his siblings and cousin whom he had known for his entire life and his half-sisters whom he had known for mere months.

His brother, cousin, and the army of House Dondarrion would depart the following day. His sisters would remain at Blackhaven awaiting the arrival of his mother and youngest brother before they departed for the Water Gardens. They would be safe, he believed, and he did pray that some day they might all be united again.

* * *

Waiting was an unbearable task. Waiting in the castle where Elia and her babes had been murdered was maddening. Oberyn Martell knew that patience was important, had everyone not told him that since he was a boy? Now, as he awaited word of King Renly Baratheon's decision, he was as patient as he could muster.

Doran's letters had been firm. Arianne was to be queen, nothing less was acceptable. He also suggested that Jon should be wed to one of Oberyn's daughters. To anyone else, the suggestion would have seemed a passing thought, but Oberyn understood the greater implication. To control the last of House Targaryen in favor of House Martell, Jon would have to wed one of Oberyn's daughters. Granted, the children of the Mad King were still somewhere in the world, but there was always a chance that they too were mad. Having watched Jon from his infancy, Doran and Oberyn had every faith in his sanity and reasoning.

In King’s Landing, hours and days had been spent deliberating the possibilities for the future of Westeros. Getting the support of some of the Kingdoms had not been difficult. With Renly had come the loyalty of the Stormlands. With Oberyn’s presence, Prince Doran’s support had been a simple task to ensure. With Lord Stark’s support had come the North. Through Lord Stark’s marriage had come ties to the Vale and Riverlands. From Lady Arryn there had been no reply. Several Vale Lords had not decided to await the Lady’s wishes and had begun to swear allegiance by raven. Lord Royce was among the Lords who had assisted in the coup, and he had sent word to Runestone that their men should come to support their King. Lord Edmure Tully had responded to the change of sovereignty with a terse reply that he would “kneel before the king who could get the bloody lions out of the Riverlands.”

Edmure’s response had made Renly laugh, a welcomed change from the somberness which had shrouded the new king since the day of his ascension. Not that his demeanor was unexpected. With a dead brother, a dead lover, and an impending war with the Lannisters, the newly appointed king certainly had enough reasons to be somber.

The Tyrells had granted their support by way of letter and the arrival of Garlan Tyrell, second son of Lord Mace Tyrell. He was sent to negotiate the desires of his House on behalf of his father, who was gathering the armies of the Reach for their march to King’s Landing. The desires of House Tyrell were quite obvious, at least to a man like Oberyn. They wanted the crown for their daughter. A plan which conflicted with a very similar desire in House Martell.

Such matters were what the King was now deliberating. Marriage... for a man such as him the matter would be one of politics and little else. While the Tyrells were richer in lands and resources, they had not been there to seat Renly upon the throne.

The discussion had been long and drawn out between the King, Lord Stark, Ser Garlan, Lord Varys, and Oberyn himself. They were all in agreement that a marriage alliance would be the best way to cement the bonds between the southern kingdoms. Tyrell had pushed for his sister to be Renly’s bride. Yet Oberyn had been quick to remind them all that it was Elia Martell whose children should have sat upon the Iron Throne. Her niece would be a just choice for queen. The Lady Margaery would be a fair bride for Prince Quentyn. Such an arrangement would create strong ties between all three kingdoms. If Margaery were to wed Quentyn and Arianne were to wed Renly, their offspring would be royal cousins.

Throughout all of the discussions, the king had remained quiet. He had listened intently to all of their arguments. Eventually, he had dismissed everyone so that he could weigh his options alone.

So Oberyn waited, stalking the halls and courtyards of the Red Keep, while the King pondered the future.

The future.

Such an uncertain thing, the future. He did not often like to think upon it. War was a certainty with the Lannisters. Already their forces were reported as having split into two masses. One force remained in the Riverlands, under the command of Ser Jaime Lannister. The second force was on its way south under the command of Lord Tywin Lannister.

The Lords of the Stormlands and Reach were already amassing in and around King's Landing. Hopefully enough men at arms would arrive by the time Lord Tywin’s forces arrived at King’s Landing. Dorne would send its naval forces in support soon, though they did have concerns about Lord Stannis Baratheon on Dragonstone. Lord Stannis had denounced his brother's ascension to the throne. Renly had replied to his brother, declaring that the will of the people had made him king as it had for Robert. They had not yet received a response.

Lord Varys found him as he walked along the outer battlements of the Red Keep. He remembered the first time he had walked there. Elia had been Rhaegar’s wife for less than half a year, and she was not yet accustomed to her life as future queen. It was upon this wall where she had told him that she was with child. She had been so happy and he had shared in her joy. His sweet sister...

“May we talk,” Varys asked as he approached.

“If you wish,” Oberyn replied with a sigh.

He approached and spoke in a low, hushed tone, not that his voice could have been heard over the wind which gusted strongly across the wall. “I know that your desire is to place Princess Arianne upon the throne, but what if Renly should chose Lady Margaery instead?”

“Then Arianne shall be wed to Lord Willas Tyrell, was that not the general consensus?”

A thin smile. “It was, however I know that is not the desire of your House.”

He turned to face the man, his back pressed against the wall. “I desire many things which are impossible. Nothing will restore my sister and her children to me. The Mountain is dead, yet two still remain. It was you who told my brother and I that Amory Lorch was responsible for the murder of Rhaenys. It was Tywin Lannister who was responsible for both of those monsters. With their heads laid at my feet, at my brother’s feet, shall out blood debt be repaid.”

He bowed his head briefly. “Yet it is not only their deaths which we have worked toward. It is also the boy’s future which has been worked for.”

Oberyn smiled ever so slightly at the eunuch. “I sent word to my brother that the boy should wed one of my daughters, a bastard for a bastard. Even if his birth should come to light, his legitimacy is impossible to prove or disprove.”

“His blood is enough for some to rally behind.”

“Who would rally behind a dragon’s bastard? Lord Stark has given his blessing on a match between the boy and one of my girls. I support the match as well. He and my daughter Tyene are quite fond of one another. If she does not want the match then he can be wed to my daughter Elia.” He laughed bitterly. “My sister might have found humor in that. She did have a rather dark humor.”

Varys sighed heavily, sorrow visible in his visage. “I do recall that, my lord.”

“Yet you could not save her,” he hissed.

“No one could save her, not from Aerys Targaryen nor Tywin Lannister. Queen Rhaella wanted Elia and her children to go to Dragonstone. If they had then they would have lived and we could have watched over them.” The man’s tone remained calm, even, obsequious.

“Neither Doran nor I would have allowed their exile.”

Varys sighed wearily. “I do not doubt that, my lord, yet now is not a time to discuss what might have been but what can be. Will you choose to tell the boy the truth and if so what will be done?”

“So few of us know the truth, Lord Varys. Lord Stark, Lord Reed, you, my brother, myself, Lady Ashara, and the nursemaid Wylla. The secret can die with us if it needs to.”

The spider cocked his head to the side, considering. “And what if the boy should have a child who resembled his father? Violet eyes would be easy enough to ignore, his supposed mother has them, but silver hair like his father is much more difficult to explain away.”

“The Daynes have Targaryen blood.”

“So do the Martells and Baratheons, but it would be hard to know that from looking upon any in your family or theirs.”

“You seem rather concerned about the fate of the boy,” he replied shortly.

“Are you,” came the hasty retort.

He breathed deep, in and out. He thought about the boy, about Jon. He had hated him when he had first seen him. A mere babe and yet he represented a great offense against Elia. Yet Ashara had persuaded him to keep the boy safe. As he watched Jon grow, he had become truly impressed by the boy. He was the quietest of the three eldest ‘desert wolves’, a term Ashara had used for her children since their infancy. He had a quick mind and a great deal of talent for weapons and strategy. He was not as inclined toward business and numbers as Alysanne was, nor was he as reckless as Arthur. Jon had been a pleasure to train, mold, and help raise. He was actually quite fond of the idea that the boy could be his son by marriage.

“I have raised him as I would a son. His fate is of great concern to me, which is why I am having him wed one of my daughters.”

“Then it would also be wise of you and Lord Stark to tell him the truth now. He is young enough to see how dangerous a coup is, how important support is. He may come to forgive the secrecy and lies of his birth if he learns them now, if he learns that he has been kept safe by the lies. Perhaps he may even gain the good graces of King Renly and ask for the Targaryens to return from exile.”

“Why would Renly ever allow them to return?”

“As a matter of good will. If he is the King we hope for him to be, then he will be able to restore balance to this country. Part of that balance could be in allowing two exiled children a place to call home. Then they could be wed to whomever he chose and watched as he pleases.”

Oberyn regarded the man curiously. Why did the Targaryens matter so much to the man? “It is a matter to consider. Yet for the moment there are greater concerns than the return of two exiles.”

He did not seemed pleased by the response, but he acquiesced instead of pressing the matter. “Indeed. I shall leave you to your walk, Prince Oberyn.”

He watched the eunuch shuffle away, curious as to what schemes were forming in the man’s head. Why would he want the Targaryen children to return? Though the spider’s whispers had always been of help, he had hardly been pushing for the Targaryen restoration. He too had bid for patience, for caution. Jon could never learn the truth. The Targaryens could never be restored and would likely never be returned.

With a sigh he turned to watch the gulls flying in the bay. He thought of Elia and her children. He thought of Lyanna Stark and her son. He thought of the man who had fathered both of their children. The Silver Prince whose passions had torn the kingdom apart. A man whose father had burned lords to death within the halls of the Red Keep. He closed his eyes and in a moment could see the crown of blue roses fall onto Lyanna Stark’s lap. He could see Elia’s cold sorrow at the loss of her husband’s love. He could see the young man who was the result of so many wrongs.

Jon was a good boy. He did not doubt the boy’s courage, intellect, or tenacity. Yet the throne was not for him. The throne was never to have been for him. The throne should have been Aegon’s. The throne should have belonged to the blood of House Martell. Perhaps, soon, that particular wrong would be righted.

Given the right circumstances and at the right time, perhaps Jon could be told the truth of his parentage, but not now. There was no support for House Targaryen now. Should the need ever arise for him to be told the truth, he should first be wed to a Martell so that he could bring no further offense against Elia’s House. The betrothal pact between Arianne and Jon could be destroyed without a soul ever knowing of its existence.

It was hours later when King Renly assembled his councilors together again. He had made his decision. In the name of justice and as a reward for the assistance in his ascension, he would wed Princess Arianne Martell. He had drafted a formal decree for the marriage contract as well as a second contract between House Tyrell and Martell for a betrothal between the Lady Margaery Tyrell and Prince Quentyn Martell. The two betrothal contracts were signed by all councilors who were present.

Given the fact that a hostile army was heading to King’s Landing, both marriages would take place after the Lannister armies were subdued.

It was a victory for House Martell. Princess Arianne would become Queen of Westeros. The only obstacle was the Lannisters. Though Oberyn could not see how Lord Tywin expected to win a fight when so outnumbered.

So he would wait until the armies arrived. With a smile on his lips, he realized that he could wait for war. He could wait a few more short months to see Tywin Lannister dead.

* * *

The journey by sea to Sunspear was far swifter than by land. Jon had made the journey more than once from Starfall, and had always enjoyed the journey. Arthur was the only one in the family who preferred to make the journey by land as sea travel churned his stomach. Jon found that there was a certain peace which he could draw from the seas that was more difficult to find on land.

The journey took less than a week from Wyl. The winds were strong and the weather fair as they sailed the Sea of Dorne, around the Broken Arm, and finally to Sunspear. He loved Sunspear. He loved the mud-brick walls of the shadow city. He loved the smell of spice in the air. He loved the Towers of the Old Palace. So different was Sunspear from Starfall, Oldtown, or King’s Landing, but it was wonderfully different.

Upon arriving at the palace, he met with the steward. The steward escorted him to Ser Manfrey Martell, and Ser Manfrey escorted him to Prince Doran’s private solar. Prince Doran was seated in his rolling chair, gazing out of a window when Jon arrived. Aero Hotah was standing close to the door, a quiet and imposing presence who guarded over the ruler of Dorne. When he was inside the room, Jon walked to his Prince and knelt before him.

“My lord.”

“Jon, it is good to see you again.” The Prince of Dorne’s voice was soft and weary. He indicated for Jon to be seated, so he rose and seated himself upon a bench near Doran. “How was your journey?”

Jon laughed. “It was long, my lord. However, there were no difficulties along the way.”

Doran nodded his head slowly. His words came even slower. “That is good to hear. Tell me, what was the last news you had of King’s Landing?”

“King Robert has died and Renly Baratheon is now king. Lord Dondarrion allowed us to read the decrees which had come forth from the King, my father, and Prince Oberyn. I left Blackhaven a day after we arrived so that I could respond to your summons.” He paused, anxious to know if Prince Oberyn’s words would truly make sense. “Before leaving King’s Landing, Prince Oberyn told me that I must tell you ‘it is time’. He said that you would understand what it meant.”

Doran Martell’s expression darkened. “I do understand,” anger tinged his voice, “However, he was wrong. Now is not the time.” He sighed deeply, his head hanging low for a moment before he looked at Jon with a much more peaceful expression. “It is no matter now, for the issue to which he was referring is irrelevant at this time. There are, however, other concerns, other ravens which have flown. My daughter shall be queen.”

Jon felt his jaw go slack. Evidently much had happened since he had left King’s Landing. “That is wonderful to hear, my lord.”

The man’s lips pressed tight together. “I am glad that my blood will sit upon the throne as it was meant to, yet I am ever wary of sending those whom I love to that city. When the Lannisters are subdued, my eldest children will go to King’s Landing so that alliances may be formed through marriage. Arianne shall be Queen, and Quentyn shall wed Margaery Tyrell. He shall become my heir.”

“An alliance such as bound the North, Riverlands, and Vale?”

Doran affirmed the question with a nod of his head. “It was Lord Stark’s suggestion, and all parties have agreed that this arrangement is the most beneficial and just arrangement of alliances. As a way of uniting the North to the crown, a match has been proposed between yourself and one of my nieces. My brother and daughter have both spoken of a fondness between yourself and Tyene. She has been spoken to of this matter, but has declined to make any decisions at this time.”

Jon’s mouth went dry. A match between himself and Tyene? Such a thought was overwhelming. “If it please you and Prince Oberyn, as well as Tyene, I should gladly accept such a proposal.”

A soft smile lighted across his face. “It does please myself and my brother. It is Tyene whom you must convince. Failing her acceptance, you will wed one of my other nieces. As there are no other matches which would be possible at this time due to age or impropriety of birth, it is important to our Houses that this match take place.”

“I... I understand, my lord. I shall do my duty and wed as is desired by my lords and my parents.”

“Good,” he replied with a nod of his head. “There is one further matter before I dismiss you. By week’s end, we shall be sending ships with our armies from Sunspear to King’s Landing. You, as well as my eldest two nieces, shall be travelling with them to join the armies of the Stormlands and Reach.”

“It will be my honor to serve, my lord.”

“Remember that wars are bloody things. Would that wars could cease.” He sighed heavily. “Now go, seek out my niece that you may resolve the issue of your betrothal.”

“Of course, my lord.” Jon knelt again before the Prince of Dorne, and kissed his hand before he left the room.

Jon’s mind and heart were racing when he left the room. He could wed Tyene, his beautiful, wonderful Sand Snake. At least... he could wed her if she chose to marry him. He did not find the idea of wedding one of her sisters quite so appealing.

He supposed that he should find Arianne before Tyene, so that he might congratulate the Princess of Dorne for her betrothal. He also thought that it might be a wise idea to learn where his rooms were or to freshen up after such a long journey, but he wanted to find Tyene.

As he sought his beloved’s location, his thoughts also turned to the future battles in which he must fight. He knew that Arthur and Edric would be in the fighting as well, under Lord Beric’s command. It was only right that Jon, as their elder, should be in the fight as well. The thought also struck him that should he die, or Arthur, that they had not even said their farewells to their mother or youngest brother. Nor had they said farewell to their father. If they died in battle, their parents would never see them alive again. He shuddered at the thought and pushed it away so that he might find Tyene.

He eventually learned where she was, and found Tyene reading in one of the large, airy rooms which overlooked terraced courtyards of the Old Palace. She was robed in blue silk which was trimmed with silver. His breath caught when he looked at her, and at the smile which shown on her face when she looked up at him.

"Ty,” he greeted, his heart in his throat.

She looked up from her book, laid it aside, and a smile illumined her face. “I had heard that you were here, my sweet. I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well. Have you heard our Prince's suggestion,” he asked with some trepidation.

Her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "Suggestion implies that our fathers have not already stated their intended conclusion. I read the letters. My father and yours wish for us to wed. Or, should I refuse, that you wed my sister Elia."

He found himself at a loss for words. Did she not want him? He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Are you opposed to such a match?"

The ghost of a smile flickered on her lips. She motioned for him to sit beside her, which he did readily. "I am opposed to you marrying my sister, any of my sisters. As for myself, I am upset that my father is forcing this. He has never before cared about whom I or any of my sisters favor. Nor has he ever planned a match for any of us. He always told us that we could wed if we chose, but that he would not defend us if we chose poorly for he had trained us to handle ourselves in such matters."

She softened then, raising a hand to his cheek. "I am not opposed to you." She pressed her lips softly to his for a brief moment. "I am opposed to losing my freedom."

He replied fervently and quickly. "I would never deny you anything."

She laughed. "Yes you would, and with good reason. As we now stand, I can go where I wish, with whomever, for however long, and no one can say anything against it save my father. Should we wed I doubt that you would allow such a thing."

"I..." He was at a loss for words. "Would you not want to only be with me?"

She cocked her head to the side, golden strands of her hair strayed across her face. He hated the expression she had, it made him feel incredibly young compared to her. He was younger than her, but hated the reminder.

"I need to consider the possibilities." She kissed him again, soft and quick. She stood, and stepped away, smiling sweetly. "I must go to the sept.”

“The sept?”

“To pray for guidance, my sweet.”

“Oh... of course.”

“I was born in a sept. I suppose that makes me closer to the gods in a way. I often find clarity when I am in their presence. Should I not seek them about such matters as marriage?”

Not waiting for a reply, she bent to him and pressed her lips to his again before she turned to leave. Her movements were slow and precise as she walked away. Jon was at a loss for what he should be thinking or feeling. His beautiful Tyene... did she want him or not? Would she even give an answer before he left to fight in the impending war?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to all of you who are following this story, much love.
> 
> Chapters 1 and 2 have been rewritten, not just revised. No events are really all that different but they are so much better than when I first did them, so I encourage you to check them out. Mostly you have Salamon2 to thank for pointing out the flaws with the original first chapter... it may have taken me months to do the rewrite, but I am so much happier with how it is written and hope that you are too!
> 
> Chapter 3 is a timeline. I know some people were annoyed when I posted that... but if I posted it too close to this chapter it would screw up the URLs.
> 
> Now for a rant....
> 
> A point of contention... STOP SAYING I SHOULD KILL CATELYN! If this was just one or two people I would ignore it, and kinda have... but this is ridiculous people. I have this story outlined, I know who lives, who dies, who marries, who has kids with whom... if I kill anyone it will be because that is how I planned it. I LIKE CATELYN! If you should dislike anyone between Ashara and Cat in this story, it's Ashara! For crying out loud people, she writes a married man a letter saying how 'he's the only one she wants' when she is sleeping with Oberyn, while pregnant with Ned's son! Cat hasn't even been seen in this story yet... but she has every right to think of Ashara as a 'southern whore'. In her situation you would not think so kindly of Ashara either.
> 
> I don't mind suggestions or tips for things that need to be improved. Sometimes it is something I haven't thought of and should have. I have had loads of helpful suggestions from many different readers, like Salamon2, and several others. I enjoy having conversations with you, my readers. But demanding pairings or deaths or what happens in the next chapter is kinda rude. Maybe I won't be popular for this particular rant, but honestly I enjoy writing to tell a story. If I change everything I have planned just to appease one or two people, the story would turn into rubbish. I want to be a good writer. I don't plead for comments or attention. I am genuinely pleased by how much attention this story has gotten, but I have also just gotten frustrated by some of the comments lately. No, I'm not singling anyone out, and no it's not you personally, dear reader. It is a conglomeration of many different people whom this is directed to.


	13. Pensivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning! Mild self-injury.  
> (In the third POV.)

"You should give him your answer before he leaves,” Arianne Martell murmured gently. They were curled together in Arianne's chambers, the future Queen of Westeros and her cousin of the same age, who may as well have been her twin sister for all that they shared.

"I know," Tyene replied. "I just don't know what my answer will be."

"The poor boy has been waiting for days. It’s cruel sweetling."

She giggled. "You have, at times, been far crueler."

"I am a woman betrothed now, and can do no cruelty toward my betrothed and King."

"You could... If he tries to harm you I shall place tears in his wine so that he can never harm you again."

“Tears?”

“Tears of Lys, a poison which has neither taste nor color. When used it mimics a sickness of the bowels, leading to death.”

"Ty!" Arianne gasped, pulling away from her cousin. Tyene's expression was pure and guileless.

"You have asked me to be one of your companions. I would be remiss if I did not protect you at all times."

"You are wicked."

She smiled, laying back against the bed. "I am my father's daughter."

"Shall you do as your father has bid?" Arianne sat so that she was looking down upon her cousin.

"I will give Jon my decision before he leaves." She laughed at her cousin's doubtful gaze. "Truly, I will. I can hardly avoid the docks today as my sisters shall depart for King's Landing with him."

"Can I know your answer?"

"My dear uncle shall know first, then Jon."

Arianne's expression was ponderous. "Why is it so difficult for you to choose Jon? He is a good man. He is smart, kind, and brave. His adoration of you is obvious to all."

Tyene pressed her lips together, thoughtful.  "He is so young."

"That hardly mattered when at first you bedded him. Why does it matter now?"

"Bedding and wedding are not the same things. To wed is ‘til death."

Arianne frowned. "Unless you are like my mother and abandon your children to return home."

Tyene reached up and squeezed Arianne’s arm. "Norvos is far away sweetling.  Yet I could not travel so far as that from him. We are both of Dorne and nowhere could we be parted long amongst the sands of our home. Tis his youth I doubt, not my forbearance."

"What of his youth makes you wary?"

"The fickleness of young hearts worries me. He loves me now, that much is true, but will he love me a year from now? Will he love me ten years from now? You are to wed without thought to such matters. I never had such an expectation until recent events."

"Today is all that matters sweetling. Tomorrow may never come."

"For we shall die amid the endless waves, forever young and forever loved,” she quoted with a wistful sigh. "Tis such a lovely poem, even with the lovers deaths."

Sighing again, Tyene moved away from Arianne and off the bed. Arianne moved to sit upon the edge of the bed. "I must decide sooner rather than later." She pressed a kiss to Arianne's brow. "I shall see you later."

Tyene left Arianne’s room and walked slowly across the length of the palace. What choice should she make? She cared for Jon. They had known one another since she was a child. They had trained together. They had spent many hours talking and laughing.

She remembered the first time he had kissed her. They had been walking along the coast near the Water Gardens, near evening. They had been gathering shells so that the jewelers could fashion them into charms. Their siblings had returned to the common areas of the Water Gardens instead of joining their walk, leaving them alone.

She had fallen during their walk, and he had knelt beside her shortly thereafter, to ensure that she was unhurt. She recalled that she had smiled at him and had assured him that she was fine. His response had been sweet. He had expressed his gladness that she was unharmed and then had brushed stray strands of her hair from her face. Then, she did not quite remember how, they had started kissing.

She leaned against the cool stone walls of Sunspear, confused.

She loved his kisses, his touches. He was sweet, eager, gentle, a good fighter, and all that she could possibly wish for in a husband. Why did she resist? Why did she hesitate?

With a start, she knew. It was not Jon she resisted, though she did doubt the longevity of his love simply due to his youth. The problem wasn't love. The problem wasn't marriage. The problem was her father.

She wanted to know why. She understood that alliances were important. Yet what benefits were there to a bastard alliance? If anything, it would be more sensible to betroth one or both of Lord Stark's legitimate daughters to Prince Trystane and Willas Tyrell. What purpose would wedding two bastards provide? Why now? Jon was already of Dorne. If anything the match was a mere token gesture.

Surely if Lord Stark gave a good enough dowry even Alysanne could wed a highborn lord? Tyene knew that Lords chose spouses for their children all the time. Her father had never made such a demand of his girls until now. So why decide that she must wed Jon?

And yet...

If Jon went to war and died...

She ached at the thought of him dying. She could not bear the thought of him going to war without knowing that she cared for him.

She continued to her destination, the sept. She needed one last prayer before she made a firm decision.

When she opened the doors of the sept, she saw him kneeling before the Warrior. His head was bowed in solemn prayer. His sword lay upon the feet of the statue. She knew her answer when he turned and noticed her.

"Have I disrupted your prayers?”

"No, I just finished." He stood. His eyes were a mix of hurt and confusion.

"I shall pray daily that the Seven keep you and protect you during your time away."

He gave her a half-smile. "Thank you. I suppose that I should leave you to your prayers."

He stood, strapping on his sword. He turned from her to leave. She knew that she had to tell him now. "Jon." He stopped. "I need to talk to you." He turned to her again. She breathed deep, there was no turning back from this moment.

“Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?" His face displayed nothing but confusion.

She stepped closer to him. "I have decided to accept the proposal."

"You?"

Oh he was beautiful when he was shocked and happy.  His smile shone like the sun. "Yes Jon, I will marry you."

He closed the gap between them, and lifting her in the air, kissed her hard. Oh how she had missed kissing him. The urgent longing which filled his every movement was intoxicating. She could lose herself in the sweet taste of him. She was breathless when he pulled away.

"I couldn't bear to have you depart without telling you my answer."

"I was afraid that you would scorn my affection; that you would reject the betrothal."

"I will never and have never scorned your affection. I find the thought of another calling you husband distasteful. For that shall be my pleasure, and I do not think that I should like to share you."

He grinned. "You wanted to share me with my sister."

She laughed. "That was before I was to be wed."

He kissed her again and she felt herself fill with warmth. She pulled away from his lips but they clung to one another.

"We should stop my sweet," she breathed against his skin. “I would not want for our first child to be conceived as I was."

He cocked his head to the side. "As you were?"

"In a sept."

He laughed and shook his head. "Your father has had some interesting experiences."

She smirked. "Perhaps you should have him tell you of my mother one day. You should meet her as well. I think she would like you."

"Where is she?"

"She serves the Faith at the Septa's House near Goldengrove. I have not seen her for several years, though we write to one another regularly."

"You must miss one another terribly."

She pulled back a little. "When we first parted I was still a babe. It has been difficult at times, but I have grown accustomed to living away from her. Now why don't we go and tell my sweet uncle of our decision?"

“Now?” He ran his fingers along her spine. Oh she knew quite well what he wished for instead of seeing the Prince of Dorne.

“Yes my sweet, he needs to know my decision.”

Reluctantly he agreed and pulled away from her. “Did you not come here to pray,” he asked, delaying.

With a smile she kissed his cheek. “I did, and upon my arrival the gods gave me the answer I needed.” She found his hand with hers and tugged. “Come my sweet, my uncle awaits a response.”

She walked toward the door of the sept and he followed behind her, his fingers laced with her own.

* * *

Prince Doran Martell readily gave his blessing to Tyene and Jon’s betrothal. She thought it likely that this was by far the swiftest thing her uncle had ever done. They bowed to him, spoke a few words, and were dismissed with his blessing.

They passed the remaining hours before the ships were to leave in Jon’s chambers. While they did spend time packing his belongings into chests, they spent much of their time abed. In his arms she realized how much she had missed him. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed his kiss, his touch. She had thought him just a passing interesting, yet she felt that she could enjoy being his wife. She could learn to want him more.

Eventually they dressed again, slowly. Perhaps they should have been swifter to dress, but neither was willing to hurry the other.

“Are you trying to miss the departure of the ships,” she teased from the bed. He was searching for a missing boot, to no avail.

“I am trying to find all of my belongings, wherever you lost them.”

She giggled. “It is hardly my fault that you lost your boot somewhere in here, your shirt as well.”

He turned to her and grinned. “You are laying upon my shirt.” Looking down he smiled. He took a few paces toward the bed, and bending down, found his boot beneath the bed. He sat upon the bed to put on and lace his boot, but was interrupted by Tyene wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck.

He shrugged her away, though she could feel his reluctance to do so. “If you don’t stop that I will truly miss the ships, and then what will your father think of allowing us to wed?”

She pulled away with a soft sigh. “I would not want my sisters to think you a craven who flees from war.”

When he had finished lacing his boot, he turned and leaned down, kissing her hard and then soft upon the lips. When he pulled away, he pulled his shirt from beneath her. “I would not want that either. Though I do not relish the prospect of travelling to King’s Landing with your sisters.”

“They will do you no harm, I promise.”

He raised a brow at her, doubtful.

“Jon.” She allowed the word to linger long upon her lips. “Truly, my sisters will be kind to you.”

He stood and held a hand out to her so that she would stand. “I think they will make my life terribly difficult while we travel together.”

She giggled and slid from the bed. “That is likely.” She picked up her gown from the floor and slid it on, pulling the laces tight, so that she appeared pure and innocent again. She walked to the vanity and used one of the combs to smooth her hair. She then pulled back her hair and tied it with a blue silk cord.

She turned to him, pensive. “Are you ready?”

His smile was shy. “As ready as I will ever be.”

She walked to him and laced her fingers in his. “Then we should go to the docks. No doubt one of the stewards has been waiting to take your belongings to the ship.”

He agreed, and together they walked from the room. Sure enough, a steward and four young men were waiting to carry Jon’s chest to the docks so that it could be loaded onto the ship. Jon told the men that he was ready for them to take his things to the ships.

They walked to the docks hand in hand. She knew that he was anxious by the way he gripped her hand. She did nothing to pull away from him. Though she had been raised to fight and defend herself and her loved ones, it had almost always been a theory. Other than a few drunken brawlers at the taverns in various cities, their lives had never been endangered. Today she would send people whom she loved to war.

The docks were already teeming with men and women when they arrived. Prince Doran and Princess Arianne were seated upon a raised platform, guarded by Areo Hotah and other swordsmen. Obara and Nymeria were standing on the platform, laughing with Arianne.

Tyene felt Jon grip her hand tighter as they approached the platform. She did not envy his impending journey with her sisters. Arianne beamed when she laid her eyes upon Tyene and Jon.

“Father informed me of your decision,” Arianne said in greeting as the guards allowed them to pass onto the platform. “It seems you were too busy after that decision was made to tell myself or your sisters.”

Tyene and Jon dipped to their knees briefly to Doran before replying to Arianne. “It was my duty to farewell my betrothed before he departs for war.” She smiled innocently at her cousin and spared a brief glance at Jon, whose cheeks were tinged pink. He was handsome in his travel attire, with his hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck.

Obara, Nymeria, and Arianne laughed. “I trust that he will long remember your parting, cousin.”

Tyene giggled as she watched the flush of red spread down Jon’s neck. She did not doubt that he would remember her farewell. Her body still ached from their love making, and likely would for most of the next day.

Doran interrupted their repartee with a gentle cough. “I am certain that the two of you will have much time to discuss the matter later. For now we must bid farewell to our soldiers as well as these three who are so dear to us.”

In agreement, Tyene released Jon’s hand and stood beside Arianne while Jon, Obara, and Nymeria knelt before Doran and Arianne.

“The three of you will go to war today. You will join my brother Oberyn and the forces of the south to fight against the Lannisters. They have long been our enemies and the time has come to seek our vengeance. Fight well my brother’s daughters. Fight well Jon. May the winds be strong and the seas fair for your journey. Go with my blessing,” Doran charged them. “Fight for Dorne. Fight for House Martell, unbowed, unbent, unbroken.”

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” Obara and Nymeria echoed in one voice, uttering the words of House Martell.

“While I breathe, I hope,” Jon said, claiming the words of House Dayne.

The three then stood. Obara and Nymeria kissed Doran, then Arianne, and then Tyene in parting.

“May your journey be swift and your sword at the ready,” Arianne told Obara and Nymeria.

“They will sing songs of our victory at your wedding feast, my sister and queen,” Obara replied.

“We will be there to see you wed,” Nymeria told Arianne and Tyene.

“I shall look forward to seeing you both upon your victory, my sisters,” Tyene told both of them. She watched her sisters walk down from the platform to the dock where their ship was moored. Maiden’s Blush was the name of the three-masted ship upon which Jon, Nymeria, and Obara would travel to King’s Landing, along with a portion of the Dornish army.

Jon was next to say farewell. He kissed Prince Doran and Princess Arianne upon their hands before he turned to Tyene. She warmed to see him look upon her, and yet she was struck with a fierce, terrifying ache at the notion of his departure. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. She heard catcalls from the ship and docks as he kissed her possessively. She was his and he was hers, and he seemed to want everyone to know. Not that she cared; she had little shame, though she liked to act as the example of utmost piety in public.

He pulled away from her, his eyes impossibly dark.

"Don't make me a widow before I am a bride, my sweet."

"I shall make that my primary endeavor, my love."

She kissed him again, soft upon the lips, cheek, and brow. "Good. May the gods grant you favor as you journey on your way."

He took her hand in his and kissed it softly. “I do believe that the gods will be so kind.”

It seemed as though an eternity passed before he finally released her hand and walked toward the ship. Arianne reached for her hand and squeezed. They watched as the last of the people and chests were loaded onto the ship and the gangplank was raised. Obara, Nymeria, and Jon all waved to them as the ship began to row away from port.

Tyene prayed with her whole heart that the gods would keep all of them safe.

* * *

Arya Stark chewed on her lip for a long while before deciding if she should bother Sansa. Today was her sister's nameday. She knew that they should spend some of it together; not that she wanted to see Sansa. She would have preferred to explore more of Blackhaven or to practice with Syrio. She could spend time with Alysanne as well, but Alys was usually busy assisting Lady Cerin for Lady Allyria's arrival. With Lady Allyria would come Lady Ashara, and thinking of Lady Ashara made Arya feel uncomfortable.

Arya had awoken early to make a gift for Sansa. Mother would like that Arya had thought to make a gift for Sansa, so would father. She wanted to prove to her mother and father that she was good when they weren't around. Not that she should be nice to Sansa, it was her fault that they didn't have wolves anymore.

She had awoken early and had asked permission to take flowers from the gardens. She had picked Sansa's favorite colors. There were orange, yellow, white, blue, purple, and pink flowers in the vase she brought to her sister.

She stood at her sister's door, uncertain. Surely Sansa was awake? She knocked timidly and her sister answered right away.

“Yes, who is it?”

"Sansa, can I come in?"

A pause.

"Yes Arya."

Her voice did not seem particularly inviting, but Arya decided to enter anyway.

"I picked these for your nameday,” she announced as she pushed open the door. She held out the flowers to her sister. Sansa was seated upon the edge of her bed, stitching a gown. She turned to her sister and seemed to consider the offer for a moment before she smiled.

"Thank you Arya.” She stood and walked to Arya. Her smile brightened as she looked at the flowers "They are lovely." Her smile faltered and she assumed her 'mother' posture. "Did you ask for permission?"

Arya flushed red. Why did her sister have to ask such stupid questions? "Of course I did! Why can't you just say thank you when I do something nice? You aren't mother! You can’t me what to do!"

Angry tears threatened to fall. Why was she crying? She couldn't cry. She wasn't a stupid baby like Rickon. Suddenly Sansa was taking the flowers from her and hugging her.

“I know I’m not mother,” Sansa whispered, rubbing Arya’s back gently.

Arya sniffled. Her cheeks were wet, not that she would ever admit such a thing. “I want to go home.” She pulled away and dried her eyes with her sleeve.  "Don't tell Jeyne."

Sansa shook her head, she was crying too. "I won't tell Jeyne, but she misses home too." She bit her lower lip as tears leaked slowly from her eyes. "And me, I miss home and mother and father and our brothers.”

“You wanted us to come here,” Arya grumbled.

“I was betrothed to the prince and father was made Hand of the King. It was lovely at first. You haven’t hated all of it either.”

She chewed on her lip and reluctantly agreed. She loved training with Syrio Forel. She had enjoyed seeing so much of Westeros. She liked her half-brothers and half-sister. But she worried. She worried for Bran and father. She worried for her half-brothers and Edric Dayne who were going to join the armies at King’s Landing. She worried for Nymeria, who was alone, somewhere in the Riverlands.

“Will they be safe in King’s Landing?”

Sansa gave a tremulous smile. “Father and our half-brothers will be safe. They will be victorious. I’m certain that we will be able to go home then and we can tell Robb, Bran, and Rickon everything we have seen.”

Shaking, Arya nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can bring Alys, Jon, and Arthur with us?”

Sansa pressed her lips together. She looked too much like mother when she did that. “Maybe.” She looked at the flowers which she was still holding in one hand and smiled again. “Thank you for the flowers, they are really pretty.”

She walked to a table, which was beneath a window, and placed the vase upon it. “They look lovely here don’t you think?”

Arya grinned. “Perfect! Do you want to see if the cooks can make lemon cakes?”

Sansa giggled. “Yes! Come on, let’s get Jeyne.”

“Do we have to,” Arya replied with a wrinkled nose.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Of course we do. Without us Jeyne has no one here. Her father is still in King’s Landing with our father. Her mother is still at Winterfell. We are all she has.”

Arya sighed heavily and reluctantly agreed. It was her sister’s nameday after all. “Fine.”

They left Sansa’s room, and retrieved Jeyne from her room, before they went to the kitchens to speak with the cooks. They could have asked Alysanne or Lady Cerin or even the steward who took care of their needs, but they knew that if they went to the cooks, they would probably get treats that had just been made. Sure enough, and to the delight of all three girls, the cooks were willing and able to make lemon cakes for the evening meal. They also sent the girls from the kitchen with sweet bread that was filled with cherries and cinnamon.

The girls spent the next hour or so walking in the gardens until the time arrived for their lessons. Lady Cerin had asked the maester if he could make lessons for the girls so that they could continue learning while they were away from their family. Maester Wyman had agreed, so for an hour every morning the three girls were required to practice writing and sums. The next hour was spent with Septa Esmine where they practiced their sewing. Arya liked Septa Esmine more than Septa Mordane, she never scolded Arya when she tangled her threads. The third hour was when Arya would practice with Syrio Forel while Sansa and Jeyne learned how to play the lap harp with Septa Esmine.

Arya loved practicing with Syrio. She was learning so much with him. She was quieter, swifter, and more focused. Yet she did not enjoy swordplay as much as she had before. In King’s Landing she had spent time practicing swords with Edric, Jon, and Arthur. Now that they were gone away to war, she could not fully rest her heart in the joy of Water Dancing.

She was afraid, afraid that she might never see her father or half-brothers again.

* * *

She was pacing again, wearing a path in the floor of the chambers which were her prison. The food which her captors had provided had grown cold, again. How could she eat it? She did not doubt that it was poisoned. Poison would be slow. They could kill her without a sword and trick her father, tell him that she had fallen ill.

Her stomach growled and she dug her nails into her forearms. She pressed her nails hard against her flesh, until she could feel something, anything other than hunger. She was staring out the window when she looked down. She could see blood, again. It had crusted on her pale skin, breaking open whenever she touched her arms. Her nails were stained with the blood she had drawn. She had to be careful with the cuts. She did not want an infection.

She laughed. The tone seemed strange to her ears. She couldn't be mad. No, she had not broken for Robert Baratheon. She would not break for Renly Baratheon, Eddard Stark, or anyone else. They would not see her break.

But they _could_ take her head. She laughed again, choking on the tears that broke free. She was safe, until they decided it was her time to die. Until they took her head and the heads of her children.

She almost didn't hear the knock on the door. Or the voice of Lord Stark calling from beyond the door.

"A moment," she called. Did she still sound a queen? Did her voice sill speak confidence?

She pulled the sleeves of her gown down to her wrists and washed her hands clean in the basin. The blood was still beneath her nails, but she could lie about its cause if needed. She took a clean cloth and wiped her face free of any filth. Looking at her reflection in the glass, she hardly knew herself. She brushed her hair quickly and let it lay loose behind her. At least she was presentable.

"You may enter," Cersei Lannister announced as she seated herself upon a chaise.

Lord Eddard Stark entered slowly. His leg was still casted, but otherwise he was well dressed and adorned with the badges of his position as Hand of the King. Such an honorable man, Lord Stark.

"It is so good to know that the Hand can visit his prisoners," she said bitterly. It had been weeks since her imprisonment had begun and this was his first visit.

"I heard that you have scarcely been eating. By the look of your plate, I can see that much is true."

His tone was neutral, formal. She could still speak with authority. She was still Queen. She had earned her place as Queen. Renly Baratheon was merely an usurper. "I am suspicious of food from men who seek my life."

He walked to a chair near her and seated himself. "You are not yet condemned to death."

She laughed. “ _Yet_ , a word that tells me I shall die when it is most in the favor of Renly Baratheon.”

“ _King_ Renly Baratheon.”

“King.” She mulled over the word. “The _king_ seeks to use me as a means to keep my father in line."

He acknowledged her statement with a movement of his head. "You, your children, and your cousins who were within King’s Landing at the time of King Robert’s death. Your father marches to King's Landing with haste. It would not benefit any for you to be executed."

"When will it be beneficial, Lord Stark? When will your new king decide that myself and my children are no longer worthy captives? When will you take my head and the heads of my children? Will they line the walls of the castle?" She seethed as she spoke, yet the words seemed to come from someone else.

He did not respond to her at first. Instead, he merely looked at her for a long time. "King Renly has already pardoned your children in word and in writing. They are declared bastards but will not be executed for the crimes of their parents. Did I not tell you that I would not see them harmed?”

“You did,” she agreed quietly.

“It has also been decided that when they are of age, they shall be wed to children of lords who are loyal to the crown."

She laughed, genuinely laughed. His discomfort spoke volumes for what fate awaited her children. "You will wed my children to you own? Bastards for bastards?"

"My son Arthur will wed Myrcella and Tommen will wed one of Prince Oberyn's girls. The contracts have already been written."

“Lowborn, bastard weddings.”

“For bastard children.”

Her jaw clenched. "Such tidy little futures you have designed for my children. Shall Joffrey wed your bastard girl?"

He shifted in his seat and breathed deep. "No, your eldest son's fate has yet to be decided."

"Why? You seem to have already planned the fate of so many others."

"The king is not over fond of your eldest child; neither am I."

"Ah, but my younger children are easier for you to control. You can mold them into whatever shape your heart desires.” She shook her head. “I am surprised that the Viper agreed to the match."

"He is in a generous state of mind, his niece shall be queen."

She laughed again. If her father did not save her, if Jaime did not save her, the fools would bring about their own destruction. "I pity any woman who is forced to wed a Baratheon. Shall he warm her bed or will she give him bastards? I wonder?"

He raised a brow, unbaited. "I doubt that Princess Arianne would be so foolish."

"Is that what I was, foolish? Foolish to hate a man who loved a dead girl. To hate a man who whored with every woman in King's Landing? The Martell girl will grow to hate Renly Baratheon as much or more than I hated Robert."

He ran a hand through his hair, weariness showing through in his responses to her. "Perhaps you are right; however, such matters are beyond my control. My duty is to ensure your health and wellbeing as a prisoner of the crown.” He stood slowly, pained by the movement. “Eat your next meal and you will be allowed a visit from your children. They all miss you and would likely welcome a visit from you."

She was slow in responding, and venom seeped into her reply. 'How kind of my lord to consider such a courtesy. Will that be all?"

He bowed his head. "For now, Lady Cersei."

He turned from her and walked to the door. He did not even spare her a second glance when he departed from the room. She considered his words and the cold food upon the bureau. Eating seemed as though she was allowing them to win.

Yet she did have her children to think upon. Should they live, she did not want them to think of her as weak. They should know that she was strong enough to thrive, even after being deposed and locked away. She would show them that lions were not to be defeated.

Some time later, she stood and walked to the tray. She would eat for her children, she decided. She would not eat to please Ned Stark or Renly Baratheon. She picked a grape from the tray and popped it into her mouth. She would do it for her children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support and for your comments!  
> I am totally ok with criticisms, it is the only way for me to grow as a writer and I learn sooo much from genuine constructive criticism! I like to read all of your responses to my work, no matter what you say... even if I get frustrated as last chapter's notes revealed!
> 
> This chapter was split from the original version because I keep procrastinating, so next chapter will be at Blackhaven! (It's like 80% written, I just need to get around to finishing it! It is currently 5k words, so was this chapter.)
> 
> Until next time! :)


	14. A Day at Blackhaven

The gates of Blackhaven were opened to them as they arrived. Their travel party was small, thirty people who had ridden from Nightsong to Blackhaven. They had been a larger company when they had departed from Starfall, but their men now followed Lord Beric to King’s Landing and war. The party which met them in the courtyard was small as well. Not that a large welcome was expected, though for their new lady, Ashara Dayne thought they might have made an exception.

Ashara looked to her sister who rode beside her. Allyria was weary of travel, Ashara knew. Her sister had never been much of a rider, she preferred carriages, yet she had ridden the entire way from Blackhaven with no complaint. A perfect lady for a castle. A perfect lady for Beric Dondarrion.

Her heart broke for her sister. Allyria should be able to enjoy her new marriage. She should be riding to her new home with her new husband. Yet she rode to her new home while her husband rode north and east to war. Ashara hated that her sister might be a widow so soon after being wed. She hated that Arron’s only living child might die beside Lord Dondarrion. She hated that Arthur and Jon could die in battle. She hated that some day she could lose Lucas the same way.

She hated war. Wars were inevitable, she knew, but were it her choice, there would be no wars.

She knew she should be glad that her boys and nephew were old enough to go to war. So many children died young, but hers had all thrived. Yet what was the point of their thriving through childhood if they would only die upon a sword? If they would not live long enough to love, to wed, to have children of their own?

Glancing behind her, she could see Lucas upon his mount. Her last child. Her baby. She could not bear to see him go to war as well. Arthur’s departure had been too difficult. She could not watch another one of her children ride to war.

If any of them died...

The sight of Alysanne standing beside Lady Cerin Dondarrion in the courtyard diverted her dark thoughts. Alysanne’s smile was brilliant, illuminating her whole face. Nothing was more precious to Ashara than the smiles of her children, her beautiful babes. Though her daughter was now a lovely young woman, not a babe or a girl. She should be wed soon, Ashara knew, though there had been no thought made toward wedding her daughter to anyone.

There were too many people in the yard for Ashara to spur her horse forward any faster than the slow gait at which they were travelling. A few minutes later they reached the grooms. As soon as one of the grooms took the reins of the horse, Ashara slid from her mount. Mere moments later, Ashara was met by Alysanne launching herself into her arms.

“My sweet girl,” Ashara said, kissing her daughter on both cheeks. She smoothed her daughter’s hair with both hands, memorizing her face as though they had not seen one another in years. She was crying and laughing at the same time as she held her little girl.

“Mama,” Alys laughed. “I am so glad to see you. Was the wedding lovely? How was your journey?”

“All was well sweetling. I have missed you greatly.” She kissed her cheek again before releasing her so that she could greet Lucas and Allyria, who had both dismounted.

Alys turned first to her brother, whom she picked up and spun with her hug. He did not seem thrilled that she was still able to lift him, but he could do little but comply with her actions. “You’ve grown taller,” she exclaimed as she set her brother upon the ground again. “Soon I won’t be able to lift you at all!”

“Good, and I have,” he replied as he straightened his clothes. “Mother had the seamstresses make me new shirts and trousers.” He shifted the conversation quickly. “Arthur said that our half-sisters are here.”

Alys nodded slowly. “They are inside. I shall take you to them soon.” She turned away from Lucas to greet her aunt with a much more restrained and polite, though no less enthusiastic greeting. “Aunt Allyria, or should I say Lady Dondarrion.”

Allyria blushed slightly at her new title. “I shall always be your aunt, sweetling.” She kissed Alysanne on both cheeks in greeting. “And the wedding was lovely, I will be certain to tell you everything later.”

“Thank you Ally,” Alysanne replied, grinning broadly.

Allyria then turned to Cerin Dondarrion. “Lady Cerin, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Cerin smiled sweetly at her three new guests. “Welcome to your new home, Lady Allyria. It has been a pleasure to prepare Blackhaven for your arrival as its new lady. Welcome to our family.”

“Thank you, Cerin. It is a pleasure to be the Lady of Blackhaven, and your brother’s wife.”

The women grasped one another’s arms and kissed on the cheek. “The pleasure is ours, Allyria. I am glad to see that you, as well as your sister and nephew, have arrived safely. News has arrived which is relevant to both you and Lady Ashara. We can discuss that now if you wish or after all of you have been settled into rooms.”

Allyria breathed deep. Ashara wished that she could help her sister, but Allyria was the Lady of Blackhaven, this was her place to make decisions. “I think that we should review whatever letters have arrived before we are settled into our rooms. I am certain that Alys should be able to escort her brother to his assigned chambers while all relevant information is discussed with myself and my sister.”

“Of course.” Cerin turned from Allyria to Alysanne and one of the men of House Dondarrion. “Alys, I trust that with Dalin’s help you should be able to show the men of your mother’s house where everything should be taken?”

“Yes, Lady Cerin,” Alys replied readily.

“Then we will take our leave of you,” Cerin replied with a brisk nod of her head. “Lady Allyria, Lady Ashara, if you will come with me.”

Ashara turned quickly to her children after she and Allyria acknowledged Cerin. “Lucas, stay with Alys.”

“Yes, mama,” her son replied.

Alysanne smiled. “I’ll be certain to take him to his chambers when everyone is settled.”

“I’m certain that you will, sweetling.” Ashara turned to follow her sister and Cerin. She feared that the news Cerin would tell them concerned her sons or nephew. She spared a glance back at her children. Lucas seemed somewhat bereft, standing beside his sister. Alysanne was already directing the men of Starfall where they should go with the chests that were being unloaded from the wagons. Her daughter seemed so ready and eager to direct a household. Perhaps it was time to begin considering where her daughter’s future should lead?

They walked through the corridors of the castle until they arrived at the lord’s solar. The desk was littered with several letters. Cerin flitted about the room as soon as they arrived. She offered them seats and refreshments. Ashara and Allyria chose to remain standing so that they might stretch their sore muscles; both accepted wine to drink. Cerin eventually seated herself upon a cushioned window seat to tell them news of the realm.

“The letters are upon the desk. You may, of course, read them at your leisure. Two were forwarded from Starfall, both are written by Lord Eddard Stark. Two were sent from Sunspear, one is from Prince Doran and the other is from Prince Oberyn. I have read all four, though only to see if there was urgent information to share with you immediately. There is only a bit of news from King’s Landing regarding the war. Lord Stark and Prince Oberyn have written that Lord Tywin has armies in the Riverlands and more marching toward the Crownlands. Word has also arrived that an army of Northerners under the direction of Robb Stark is on their way south. They have reached Moat Cailin.”

“We knew much of that at Nightsong,” Ashara stated, annoyed that Cerin Dondarrion had taken it upon herself to read letters which were from Ned. Ned’s letters had been hers to read, not Cerin’s. Ashara reminded herself that Cerin was young, only eight and ten, and merely doing her duty.

“Indeed, Lady Ashara, I was simply informing you of what I read. Betrothals have also been announced in the letters. King Renly has promised to wed Princess Arianne Martell. A match has also been made to unite House Tyrell to the cause of the crown. Margaery Tyrell and Prince Quentyn Martell are betrothed as well. Both of those marriages are pledged to take place once the immediate threat to King’s Landing is settled.”

Allyria laughed. “That is wonderful news! Asha, it seems that some wrongs will finally be set to right.”

A Martell upon the throne again... should that thought be a happy one? Elia and her children were still dead. Now Elia’s niece would be thrust into danger as well. Ashara forced a thin smile to her lips. “I am certain that Elia’s brothers are pleased with this turn of events. Is there any further news?”

Cerin nodded, sheepish. “I do apologize Lady Ashara, I read all of the letters, as I said, so that I might know if there was any urgent news. Lord Stark wrote to you of plans regarding your sons.”

Ashara’s eyes narrowed. What about her sons? “What matter did he write regarding?”

“It seems that he has pledged your sons to wed. He apologizes for the suddenness of the decision. Jon he has pledged to Tyene Sand, Prince Oberyn’s third born daughter. Arthur he has pledged to Myrcella Hill, formerly Baratheon, Cersei Lannister’s daughter.”

For a few moments Ashara could do nothing but stare blankly at Cerin. How could Ned promise her sons to anyone? The children were hers to care for, to protect, what had he done for them? She breathed deep, willing her emotions to stay inside. Jon wasn’t hers to decide his fate, she knew that well enough from the day he had been given to her. Did Ned not tell her, that very same day, that he would find a match for Alysanne when she was of age? Why would he not seek to make matches for the other children as well?

She scarcely noticed that Allyria had picked up a letter from the desk until it was pressed to her hand. “I believe this is the letter.”

Ashara seated herself and read the letter slowly, trying to make sense of the words. Ned’s words informed her that the match between Jon and Tyene was Oberyn’s initial suggestion. Apparently Prince Oberyn had mentioned the affection Jon and Tyene had for one another. She knew the true reason. She knew that Oberyn, and likely Doran, wanted to ensure that Jon was theirs.

She wished that Oberyn had never learned the truth about Jon. She wished that he could have been kept safe instead of becoming a game piece for the Martells to use. Jon was her son, more than he was ever Lyanna Stark’s. She had nursed him with Alys and Arthur. She had kissed his hurts and rocked him to sleep. He was her son.

But he did love Tyene Sand. Even if the Martells had not been plotting since Jon’s infancy to control him, Ashara thought it likely that he would have grown to love one of Prince Oberyn’s girls. With the change of kings in King’s Landing, the foolish idea of Prince Doran to wed Jon to Arianne was now nothing but a passing thought of long ago. Arianne being the Queen was all that mattered to the Martells, that and the death of Tywin Lannister. She was glad that Arianne would not wed her son. Prince Doran’s young daughter was far too spirited and intemperate for her son.

Ashara returned her attention to the letter. The decision to betroth Arthur to Myrcella was purely for political reasons. King Renly wanted to ensure that Cersei Lannister’s children were controlled, and how better to control them than to wed her children to the children of his greatest allies. As such Tommen, the former prince, would wed one of Prince Oberyn’s younger daughters, when the children were of age. Politically, Ashara agreed, yet the thought of her children being treated as pieces in a game was more than she wished to bear.

As she read further, she learned that Jon had not been forced into the betrothal. She nearly laughed, she knew that Jon adored Oberyn’s third daughter. He likely had jumped at the chance to wed Tyene. Apparently Tyene had chosen to agree to the match as well. Perhaps that match was not so bad as her initial gut reaction had been.

Truth be told, she knew nothing of Cersei Lannister’s daughter other than the fact that the girl was a child. Perhaps Arthur could be happy with the arrangement? Perhaps the former princess could be happy with her son? For now both were too young for the betrothal to mean much at all.

She eventually set aside the letter. “It seems that Lord Stark believes that my children are useful for making alliances. Though I suppose that is the way of the world. Thank you, Lady Cerin, for telling us this information.”

She read the remaining three letters, trading them with her sister as they read. When they were finished, she asked where her rooms would be located. When Cerin told her the answer, she excused herself. She needed to rest, and to prepare herself for meeting with Ned’s daughters.

* * *

Sansa and Arya Stark followed Alysanne and Lucas Sand to the solar where they would dine with Lady Cerin Dondarrion, Lady Allyria Dondarrion, and Lady Ashara Dayne. She and Arya walked stiffly, with their heads held high. There was no way to hide their anxieties. Nor was there truly a way for them to hide their surprise in meeting their youngest half-brother.

They had known about Lucas, of course, they had known about all four of their half-siblings.  Sansa and Arya had watched the arrival of the Daynes from a window which overlooked the courtyard. They had jostled one another to see the woman who their father must have loved, at least Sansa thought that her father must have loved Lady Ashara. Not that her father didn’t love her mother... Her parents loved one another very much. She did not understand why he had not been faithful to mother except if he loved another as well. Could someone love more than one person? The knights in stories never loved anyone but their maidens.

Arya had claimed that she wasn’t interested in seeing or meeting Lady Ashara, but she had squeezed herself beside Sansa so that they could see her when she arrived. They hadn’t seen much, as Ashara had spent little time in the courtyard and they were too far away to truly see her.

They had then watched while Alysanne assisted with the direction of the horses, carts, and chests while a young boy stood beside her. They tired of watching after a time and returned to the common area of their suite of rooms. It had been while they were nibbling at the remnants of their mid-morning meal when Alysanne had arrived with Lucas.

Sansa had gasped when she saw the boy. She noticed Arya’s eyes widen at the sight of him as well. She had not often thought of what her half-siblings might look like. Jon and Arthur both resembled father, just as Arya did. Alys said that she resembled her mother and that Lucas did as well. Yet looking at Lucas it was not Alysanne that Sansa saw, but Bran. There were differences between her full and half-brothers, yet the similarities stole Sansa’s breath away. Bran’s hair was red and Lucas’s was dark brown, but Bran’s hair had always been the darkest of the reds. Bran’s eyes were blue, as Robb and Rickon and Sansa’s were all blue, but his were a deep blue, as deep as the sea. Lucas’s eyes were dark purple. Yet their faces were the same shape, their smiles crooked in just the same way. Even in personality and temperament, as Sansa would learn, the boys were very similar.

After spending a few hours awkwardly attempting conversation, during which Alysanne and Sansa did more talking than Arya and Lucas combined, they were summoned to their dinner. Sansa could feel the tension radiating from her sister as they entered the room. Sansa felt anxious as well, but she promised herself that she would not glare or be impolite to Lady Ashara. When they entered, they were greeted kindly by Lady Cerin and then introduced to Lady Allyria and Lady Ashara.

Ashara was lovely, Sansa noticed at once. She felt angry quite suddenly, though she did not quite know why. Father loved mother and mother was beautiful, more beautiful than this woman from Dorne. She stared at the woman even as they were all seated. Her hair was nearly black, though strands of silver streaked her hair. She had remarkable eyes, the same as Alysanne and Lucas, all deep shades of purple and violet. Mother was still prettier than Lady Ashara, Sansa thought fiercely.

They all greeted one another politely as they were seated. Shortly after sitting, the first course was laid before them. Sansa averted her eyes from Lady Ashara to the food that was placed before her. The first course was rabbit soup. Sansa watched the carrots and greens float in the soup as she moved her spoon. She stared at it as though her food was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. They did not speak during the soup. When the fish was laid before them, Lady Allyria broke the silence by attempting conversation, as was her duty as the hostess.

"Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, how has your stay been here at Blackhaven?"

"It has been very pleasant here," Sansa replied. "Lady Cerin has been a wonderful hostess and everyone has been kind."

"I am glad to hear that. I do believe my good-sister shall have much to teach me of how to run this household. It must be difficult for both of you to be away from all that you know. I know that I shall miss Starfall now that Blackhaven is my home. We have been concerned for your family since learning of the Kingslayer's actions against Lord Stark. I am glad that he is faring better as of late, aside from the threat of war."

Sansa smiled graciously. "Thank you, Lady Allyria. Our journey has been difficult ever since we departed from Winterfell, though we have had time to rest here. We do miss our home, and hope to return when travelling is safer."

"It was better when we still had our wolves," Arya muttered under her breath.

Sansa glared at her sister, but Arya was stabbing her fish with her knife.

Allyria gave her a sympathetic smile. "I understand. Cerin has had time to tell us much of what has transpired to your family. Life has truly been difficult this year for House Stark. Your family is often in our thoughts. It is my hope that your stay here will be enjoyable, even in the midst of the changes our country is going through."

"You have our thanks, Lady Allyria and Lady Cerin. Every effort has been made to help us adjust to Blackhaven." Sansa elbowed her sister so that she would respond.

With a quick glare at Sansa, Arya turned to Allyria and smiled sweetly. "Thank you Lady Allyria and Lady Cerin for your hospitality."

"You are both quite welcome," Cerin replied. "You parents must be proud to have such wonderful daughters."

"I believe that Lord Stark is proud of all of his children," Ashara stated. Sansa snapped her head in the direction of Ashara Dayne. She had made a point of avoiding looking at her since shortly after they had been seated.

"Yes," Allyria replied thinly. "I am certain of that."

Sansa did not miss the anger that Allyria directed toward her sister. Was she ashamed of Ashara? Sansa knew that she would be reluctant to admit to having Arya as a sister were she in Lady Allyria's position.

Alys shifted the conversation. "Father has allowed Arya to study Braavosi Water Dancing and her instructor has come south with us. She is quite quick at learning to use a sword. Sansa has a lovely singing voice and is being tutored by Septa Esmine to play the lap harp."

"Such diverse skills," Allyria replied. "I shall see if we can find a lap harp that you may take with you when you depart, so that you may continue learning how to play. A young lady must possess many such talents to be a good hostess."

It was several moments before Sansa could manage to speak. A lap harp was not a simple gift. "Thank you very much, Lady Dondarrion, for your kindness."

"It is no great matter to give a gift to one who will find pleasure it receiving it. You are welcome, Lady Sansa."

Elated, Sansa continued. "How was your journey here? How was your wedding?"

Allyria seemed saddened and pensive. “The journey was long and the wedding was short.”

“Oh.” Sansa was taken aback at the reply. “I am sorry for that, my lady.”

Allyria laughed softly. “Oh, there is no need to apologize. The wedding was lovely. My maiden’s cloak was the one my father wrapped around my mother’s shoulders when they wed. The wedding was not what I had anticipated, as we were not intending to wed until next year. I had wished for all of my nephews and my niece to be present when I wed. Necessity, it seems, forced our lives to take a different path. I am proud of my husband and love him dearly, though I wish the circumstances were different.”

“I understand,” Sansa replied. “It must be difficult to be married to one whom you love, only to lose him so swiftly.”

“She hasn’t lost him,” Arya proclaimed. “Lord Beric will return with Edric, Arthur, and Jon. They have to come back.”

“That is our hope and prayer,” Ashara replied quietly.

Arya hesitated when she looked at Ashara. Until that moment she had done nothing but glare at the mother of her half-siblings. She softened ever so slightly, for a moment. “It’s mine as well. Why do people fight wars?”

Ashara closed her eyes for a moment and lowered her head before looking at all of them again. “People fight wars for what they think is right. There are things worth fighting for. Our families are worth fighting for, are worth dying for. In some ways, I think that is what causes every war, people wanting to better their own family above anyone else.”

Arya chewed on her lip. “My direwolf is named Nymeria. I... I don’t have her anymore, but I named her after Queen Nymeria. Nymeria fought for her people to have a home. Father fought the mad king because he killed my grandfather and uncle, and Prince Rhaegar took Aunt Lyanna.” She spoke slowly, considering her words as she spoke. “Why is father fighting this war?”

Ashara’s eyes fell to her lap before she looked back up at Arya. “Your father believes in fighting for what is right. He has made many difficult decisions in his life. Yet in this matter, I believe that he is making what he believes are the best decisions that he can, given the situation in which he has found himself. He always tries to make the most honorable decisions which are available to him.”

“Always?” The word left Sansa’s mouth before she could stop herself. She heard the intake of breath from everyone at the table.

“In most regards,” Ashara replied coolly, as she trained her eyes upon Sansa.

 “I find your opinion of my father curious, Lady Ashara.” Shaking, she stood and curtsied quickly, unable to stay in the room for another moment. “If you will all excuse me.”

She heard Arya push away her seat and follow her swiftly from the room. She did not care that she was impolite or improper. She did not want to hear Ashara Dayne speak of her father or his honor. She could not bear it for another moment.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon, close to evening, when Alysanne and Lucas followed their mother to meet with Sansa and Arya. Alys thought that the idea was terrible. She thought that they should wait, allow the girls time to grow accustomed to everything, but her mother was insistent. They found her half-sisters in the gardens. Sansa was practicing with the lap harp. The time she had spent practicing was beginning to show progress; Alysanne could hear the melody of ‘A Mother’s Smile’ as Sansa played. Arya was on the ground near one of the large cedar trees, doing something near the roots. Her dress was covered in dirt and twigs.

“You are quite talented,” Ashara said quietly, drawing attention to herself and interrupting the girls. "May I speak with you?"

Arya glared at Ashara, but said nothing. Sansa turned to her, her expression neutral. "This is not my house, Lady Ashara, you may go wherever you are permitted."

Ashara smirked and sat across from Sansa. Lucas and Alys seated themselves nearby in the circle of benches. Arya moved closer, though she remained separate, seated upon the grass.

"You speak truly. This is now my sister's home, and we are all guests here. Even at Starfall, where I was born, I will some day be considered a guest. The same may happen to yourselves when you are of age and your brother is Lord of Winterfell. Our paths in life are rather uncertain as women and for my children, as bastards. I wanted to speak with you about your father."

“Why,” Arya hissed.

"Is something wrong with father?" Sansa asked.

"No, girls,” Ashara soothed. “There is no news of your father or of your half-brothers.” Both of the girls seemed to relax at her reply. “I want to explain to you what transpired between your father and myself long ago. You are both nearly young women, and will soon be of an age where men desire you and you desire them.” She turned to Alys and Lucas. “I have not explained much of this to either of you, my sweetlings, and I think you all need to understand your father and I more."

The girls grumbled, but did not leave. Alysanne and Lucas merely regarded their mother curiously. Though she had told she had often told them many good things of their father’s character, she had never explained details of the Rebellion or of how she had met their father. She had always said that it hurt her too much to speak of the Rebellion.

 “I met your father in King's Landing about half a year before the Tournament at Harrenhal where your Aunt Lyanna was favored by Prince Rhaegar. Your father had come to King's Landing with Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Robert Baratheon. While Lord Arryn was seeking an audience with the King and Small Council, the young Robert and Ned were allowed to move freely about the castle.”

She looked upward, remembering. Her tone was hushed and sad. “I was a lady in waiting to Princess Elia Martell. She and I had known one another since I was quite young. I was nearly eighteen, and unpromised. My father was never efficient with finding marriages for his children. My mother died birthing Allyria, and she had been a great influence in Arron's first marriage. Arron was my oldest brother, Edric's father.”

“When my mother died, much of my time was spent with her relatives, the Martells. When Elia was wed to Rhaegar, I travelled with her to King's Landing. My brother Arthur was already in the kingsguard. I spent a great deal of time with Arthur whenever he was not on duty. He looked out for me. He tried to find a good match for me.” Ashara paused, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. She seldom spoke of her brother Arthur. ‘He died for duty in the war,’ was all she would typically say of her elder brother.

With a wry smile, she continued. “Prince Oberyn had shown interest in me, though he had also shown the same amount of interest in many other young women. By Harrenhal four daughters had been born to him. Elia and Arthur were both opposed to such a match, though Princess Meria I think would have approved. So when Ned and Robert visited, Arthur observed them. Robert was already pledged to your aunt Lyanna, but Ned was unpromised. Arthur told me that he seemed a good man, so I took it upon myself to meet him.”

Warmth shown in her expression at the mention of Ned Stark. All four children were listening intently to the story. “He was sweet, your father. He was calm, quiet, and unaffected. We spoke a few times during his stay in King's Landing, however Robert saw us the one time and embarrassed Ned terribly. They left the next day, and we did not speak again until Harrenhal. The night of the opening feast, Brandon, your uncle, spoke with me. He asked me to dance with Ned. He explained the entire situation which had occurred between Ned, Robert, and myself. I was willing to forgive their foolishness.”

Arya moved closer, raising a curious brow. "What did they do?"

Ashara laughed. "I don't truly recall. It has been so long ago now. When one is young, one tends to say and do many foolish things. So, I walked to where your father was seated and we spoke again. He apologized, I forgave him, and then we danced. We spent much of the tournament together after that day. We fell in love there.”

"But father loves mother!" It was Arya who spoke again, quite emphatically.

"I know that he does,” Ashara conceded. “But at that time your mother was pledged to wed your uncle Brandon. Ned was unpledged and so was I. Foolishly we were so in love that we promised to wed and thought nothing of the consequences. Alysanne is the result of those decisions at that tournament.”

Ashara paused and smoothed her skirt slowly. Alys could sense the discomfort in her sisters and brother, and felt disquieted herself. “We parted from the tournament awkwardly. I dared not speak to him after Rhaegar crowned Lyanna as queen of love and beauty. I was so angry, so embarrassed for Elia, that speaking with Lyanna's brother would have been in poor taste. Later, when my pregnancy became known, I was returned to Starfall. Then Rhaegar took Lyanna and the Rebellion began. Your parents wed to fulfill the oath Lord Rickard Stark and Lord Hoster Tully had made regarding your mother and uncle. My House was allied with the Targaryens, the promises Ned and I had unwisely made could not be kept.”

She paused again, looking down at her hands as they knit together. “When... when your father met me again, our decisions were wrong, and our own selfish choices. I wish that I could tell you a better reason, but I cannot. I do not want any of you to hold my actions, or your father's, against any of your siblings. You are brothers and sisters, that you have different mothers is not any of your faults. The fact that my actions and your father’s have hurt your mother is regrettable. I do not ask that you like me. I only ask that you do not blame your brothers and sister for actions that they had no part of. I think that, as you grow older and learn more about love and the hurts that can be caused by our actions, you will understand a little better what happened between your father and I. I would also ask that you do not hold anything against your father. He lost much in that war.”

“We are also all to travel to Sunspear as guests of Prince Doran,” Alysanne added quietly. “It would make travel easier if we could cooperate.”

They were all quiet then, considering all that had been said. For a moment, Sansa and Arya both chewed on their lower lips in an incredibly similar manner. “You have given me much to think upon,” Sansa said, looking at her lap. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. I know that I was impolite.”

Alys noticed her mother’s soft smile at Sansa’s words. She had not been truly upset at Sansa’s outburst at dinner. She had apparently anticipated some rough moments with Lady Stark’s daughters. “I have taken no offense, Lady Sansa. I do not doubt the difficulty of this situation for you and your sister.”

Arya was fidgeting, and from where she was seated had managed to pluck large quantities of grass from the turf surrounding her. Eventually she looked up. “I don’t have to like you?”

Ashara shook her head. “No, Lady Arya, you do not have to like me, though I would ask you to show respect toward me as you would to any other Lady or elder.”

Alysanne noticed the smirk which Sansa needed cover with her hand. Her mother did not yet have an understanding of Arya Stark.

Arya replied very slowly. “I like Alys, and Arthur, and Jon. I won’t dislike Lucas either. He reminds me of Bran.” She turned to Lucas with a sly smile. “Do you want to practice sword play with Syrio tomorrow?”

Lucas returned her grin. “Yes, I would like that.”

“Are we at peace then,” Ashara asked.

“Yes, Lady Ashara,” Sansa replied.

“I suppose so,” said Arya.

“That is good enough for me.” Ashara breathed deeply and stood, smoothing her skirts as she moved. “The hour grows late. We should probably all retire to our rooms. Until the morrow, ladies of House Stark. Lucas, it is time for you to go to your room.”

“Do I have to go if my sisters aren’t?”

He glanced conspiratorially at Arya. “Come with me,” she said with a grin. “I haven’t shown you Needle yet. Then we can go to our rooms.” She yawned dramatically. “Then we need to sleep.”

Alys looked down so that her smile could be hidden. She noticed that her mother did much the same. Lucas looked up at Ashara. “May I?”

“You may,” she laughed, placing a kiss on Lucas’s forehead.

Lucas waited a moment until Arya stood. “Catch me,” she shouted before running off with a laugh, her skirt pulled up to her knees so that she could run faster. He sprinted behind her, laughing.

Sansa stood with a sigh, shaking her head at her sister. “Until the morrow, Lady Ashara, Alys.”

“Until the morrow, sister.”

Sansa curtsied slightly and walked away at a much steadier pace than her little sister.

Alysanne stood when her sister disappeared into the castle. “I am glad that you are here.”

Ashara embraced her daughter. “I am glad to be here with you, my sweet girl. You do not know how much my heart ached when you parted from me. How much being parted from your brothers hurts me.”

Alys slipped her arm in her mother’s and they walked toward the castle. “They will return to us.”

Her mother remained silent for a long time, though she pressed her free hand to her eyes as they walked. “Too often have I seen men whom I love go to war and not return. Jon and Arthur aren’t even men, they are just boys. I never even said farewell to Jon.”

Alys laid her head on her mother’s shoulder as they walked. “You still have me and Lucas.”

Ashara kissed her daughter's head. "For that I am very glad. I do not like to think of any of you in harm's way."

“My brothers will not die.”

“I had that faith in my own brothers, in my father.”

Alysanne bit her tongue. Her heart ached for her mother, but she could not lose faith that her brothers would return. Her mother’s story resonated with her still. She pondered over the bits of her mother’s past that were still hidden. “What happened to Uncle Arthur?”

“What?” Her mother turned to her, startled.

“You have never talked to us about how he died. With the story of how you and father met. I was just thinking more about him. You never talk about him. You never talk about the Rebellion.”

“Arthur died doing his duty.” They arrived at, and entered, her rooms. “Please leave it there sweetling.”

“As you wish,” she conceded unwillingly. “What was the news that Lady Cerin needed to speak with you and Ally about?”

“Letters arrived from your father and the Prince of Dorne.” She seated herself upon the settee. “Your half-brother Robb marches to war from the North. There was also a report that Princess Arianne is to wed King Renly and that Lady Margaery Tyrell is to wed Prince Quentyn."

“Word arrived of the latter a week or so past, but not the former. Shall all of my brothers fight in this war of succession?” Alys sat beside her mother, despairing. “I’m afraid.”

“Oh sweetling.” She ran her fingers through Alysanne’s hair, removing pins and the lace which held her long braid together. “Fear is natural. I am afraid for all of you, and have been since your births. I fear for Edric, for Lord Beric, and for your father. I worry about the fate of our country. I worry for our friends, kin, and overlords, the Martells. I worry for the marriages your brothers have been promised into.”

Startled, Alysanne turned to face her mother. “My brothers are promised to wed?”

"Yes, my precious one, Jon and Arthur are betrothed."

"When did that happen?"

"You father wrote of the decisions from King's Landing."

Alysanne stared blankly. When she spoke, her voice shook. "Wrote of the decisions? Did he not ask you? You raised us, not him."

"It is his duty to find matches for you and your siblings. He promised that the day he saw you."

"But..."

"But you wish to wed for love. I know that. Such was my desire once, but duty changes our path in life more often than desire."

"But it wasn't duty that bound you to father. It was me and Jon and Arthur and then Lucas. Why return to him so often if he chose Lady Catelyn over you? He must have known of me when you were with child with Jon. He then married Lady Catelyn for an alliance. Where was his duty to us?"

Her mother looked down. "Things were far more complicated than you make it seem."

Alysanne stood, agitated. "How so? He chose an alliance over you when he must have known that he had a child with you and had gotten you with child again. How does he have the right to later choose our marriages?"

She was still looking at her lap, twisting her hands together. Her voice was tense but calm. "He is your father, which is what gives him the right to decide. Jon will be pleased with his match I think. He is to wed Tyene Sand. Arthur will wed the bastardized former princess Myrcella Hill when she is of age."

"And of me?" It seemed the sensible to ask.

Looking up, she replied. "A match for you has yet to be decided. In time one will be decided for you as well."

She bit back an angry laugh. "With or without your consent?"

"I am certain we shall discuss the matter."

"You didn't with Jon and Arthur’s matches."

"Theirs are matters of political expedience."

"How are either politically expedient? The former queen's daughter is only a little girl. Jon is of Dorne, so is Ty. That match does nothing politically. It would be more sensible for Sansa or Arya to be pledged to Highgarden or Sunspear." Alys was pacing, and practically spitting the words at her mother.

"Your half-sisters are not of age to marry either. Your father may very well have such a plan in place, I am not privy to his thoughts regarding the futures of his children with Lady Catelyn."

"Nor would it seem that you are privy to his thoughts regarding your own children," Alysanne spat.

"I thought that you liked him,” Ashara replied calmly, though she seemed weary.

"Liking him and having faith in his making a match for me aren't the same! I don't understand why you approve of these matches when he has given no regard to you in this matter!"

She sighed heavily. "I have told you that it was his responsibility Alys."

"It was his responsibility to choose you over Lady Catelyn the moment he knew of me and he didn't!"

"Stop speaking of matters that you don't understand!" Ashara snapped.

Alysanne stopped moving, startled. "What don't I understand mother? I understand only what I have heard and seen. Until today you had never spoken of how you met father. You still do not speak of Robert’s Rebellion in the slightest.” She shook her head, confused. “How you can speak well of my father when he must have chosen Lady Catelyn over you? I do not see how he could have fathered myself and my brothers if he didn’t know. You never speak of Uncle Arthur either and there are some at Starfall who claim that father killed him.” Her mother sat straight, staring at her daughter in fright, even as tears began to form in her eyes.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Something in her mother’s eyes told her that it was true. She broke. Tears began to prick at her eyes. “Tell me... if, if that rumor is true, how could you allow him to touch you again? How could you raise us to love him if he did kill your brother?”

Ashara closed her eyes, tears slipped down her cheeks. "I cannot tell you."

"Cannot tell me what,” she cried. “By all the gods mother, what is so hard for you to say!"

"Jon," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

Shaking with emotion, Alys did not understand. "What about him!"

Her mother eventually looked up, exhaustion and tears lining her face. "He is the duty for which Arthur died."

"What?"

Her mother spoke tonelessly. "You are forgetting one person who died in the war, you aunt."

"Aunt?" Alysanne’s first thoughts first went to her Aunt Allyria. Unspeaking, Ashara gazed at her daughter steadily, waiting. What aunt was her mother referring to? How could an Aunt have been the duty for which her Uncle Arthur died? Then she remembered her other aunt, the one who died in the war. The aunt who was not spoken of, especially in Dorne. She felt faint and stood against the wall for support. "No, mama please, no."

Her mother’s voice was so hollow that it shook Alysanne to the core. "Lord Stark did not know about you until he arrived at Starfall with an infant and Dawn. He killed my brother Arthur to protect himself. Arthur died doing his duty to Rhaegar by protecting the heir to the throne. I took in the boy for his protection and to honor my brother. Your father is blameless in everything of which you accuse him."

"Blameless? I... I don't understand..."

"There are some things that you may never understand. There are things I will never be able to explain to you.” Shaking her head, she whispered. “I should never have told you this."

"Jon is not my brother?" She needed to say the words. She needed to hear something different, anything to take back her mother’s words. Jon was her brother, she needed to hear her mother say the words.

"My sweet Alysanne,” she stood and moved to Alysanne’s side, taking hold of her hands. “He is your cousin, born to be a prince, and named king upon the death of his brother Aegon and the other members of his House. Do you understand the weight of this secret and why Jon must wed one of Oberyn's daughters?"

Alys could do nothing but shake as tears slipped from her eyes. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. “I... yes,” she choked out eventually. “May I leave mother? I need to think. I need to be alone.”

Her mother grasped her hands tightly, fear straining her voice. "You can never tell a soul what I have told you. We will all die if the wrong person knows. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, terrified.

“Do you swear to never tell a soul?”

She shook in reply, unable to speak. Her mother seemed satisfied for she eventually relaxed and released Alysanne. “I am sorry, my sweet girl,” she gently cupped Alysanne’s cheek. “I am sorry for everything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all of your comments and your responses.


	15. A Tale of Two Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for how long this took!! Thank you everyone for all of your comments and your responses. Special thanks to Spiff's Oliphaunt and The Goat of Harrenhal for your assistance. Thank you to my readers who demanded more during more from me when I was delayed so long!
> 
> The next chapter should come more quickly. July and August have been extraordinarily busy months with work and friends. I also totally changed this chapter twice from my initial plans.
> 
> If I am delayed during the next couple months it is because I will be trying to update A Brood of Dragons and Reflections on the Ice since those chapters were half-done in April. I am also working on a fic challenge that is due by December... and I love the story... soo much.
> 
> Now to the story!

The air hung hot and heavy in King's Landing the day Jon Sand arrived. Other than the teasing of Obara and Nymeria, the journey had been easy. He was excited to return to the city. He was proud to stand with Dorne in the fight. He was ready to wed when the battles were ended.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the salt air. He could still feel the gentle touch of Tyene on his skin, her taste on his lips, and smell the scent of her which still clung faintly to his clothes. He missed her already. He still could not quite believe that she had decided to accept the proposal.

"Dreaming of my sweet sister might get you killed in battle," Nymeria said with a laugh, disturbing his thoughts as she appeared at his side.

"We aren't in battle," he rebuffed. They stood midship, at the railing, waiting to disembark. There was no room for another tall ship in the ports, so they had to wait for a smaller boat to ferry them to the docks.

"Not yet, but soon we shall be. Love is a distraction on the field of battle," Obara said as she appeared at his other side.

He glanced between them, trying to not appear to be disturbed. The daughters of Prince Oberyn, though they were called Sand Snakes, were more wolf than snake to Jon. Alone they were just girls, together they were a pack, circling their prey. Would he feel more or less surrounded by them when he married Tyene?

"Love may be motive to fight for as well, dear sister. We fight the Lannisters to avenge our aunt and cousins. We fight to place our sweet cousin upon the throne. What greater love is there than the love of family? What higher honor is there than to fight for our family"

Obara snorted, but did not reply. Jon moved his head in agreement, but Obara frightened him too much for him to speak against her. Seeing that Jon and Obara would not engage the conversation further, Nymeria stepped away with a sigh and informed them that she was returning to her cabin. Obara walked away a few minutes later, leaving Jon to stare at King’s Landing across the waters of the bay.

It was two more hours before they were able to board a smaller sailboat that would transport them from Maiden’s Blush to the docks. The swarms of boats in the bay made the waters rough and somewhat treacherous. Smaller boats collided with larger boats, sometimes causing one or both to capsize. Then the upturned people would need to be rescued; many were irate.

When they made it to land, Jon and his shipmates were greeted by guards who sorted the various arrivals. Merchants were sent to one pier, commoners entering the city were sent a different way. Soldiers were sent various directions depending upon their sworn House. Arrivals of noble birth were sent on a different route altogether. Jon, Obara, and Nymeria announced themselves as the children of Lord Eddard Stark and Prince Oberyn Martell, respectively. They were sent with other Dornish nobles, and lesser nobles of the Vale, toward the Red Keep.

When they finally were escorted into the courtyards of the castle, they were again forced to wait in lines. Jon was tempted to slip away from the crowds and make his way to the Tower of the Hand. Yet he thought it better to wait, so he did. Beside him, the sisters waited as well. Nym found a man from Lemonwood to smile at and charm in order to pass the time. Obara ground her heels into the hard packed earth and shifted constantly as they waited, impatient and ready to fight as ever. Jon simply looked around.

The castle was different than when he had left. While only a few short months had passed, many things had changed, for himself and for Westeros. Kings, battles, and betrothal pacts to change the shape of the kingdoms.

For the Red Keep, the first changes were in the banners which waved from the heights of the towers. Only stags hung where once the entwined sigil of stag and lion proudly waved. On the lower battlements hung the banners of the lords whose fealty was now sworn to Renly Baratheon. Stark, Martell, and Tyrell were the three largest banners and the three largest houses who had sworn themselves to the new king. Below the three great houses were the lesser houses. Houses of Dorne, the Reach, the Crownlands, and the Stormlands, as well as some from the Riverlands, Vale, and North. There were fewer banners from the latter three regions, but that was not unexpected. The Riverlands were fending off the Lannisters. The Vale was not yet in support of the new king. The North was furthest from the Crownlands and would likely not arrive for some time. With Lord Stark present in King’s Landing, the North would follow.

Eventually their escort arrived, consisting of Alyn, from Lord Stark’s household, and Daemon Sand. "Jon," Alyn greeted. "Your father was informed of your return and has asked that you be taken to the Hand’s Tower."

Jon turned to Alyn, and greeted him with a welcoming smile. “It is good to see you again, Alyn. May I introduce you to...”

“Obara and Nymeria Sand,” Daemon interrupted, “The eldest daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell. It seems the three of you have arrived well.”

“Of course we have Daemon,” Nym purred, abandoning the young man who was hopelessly enraptured by her.

Daemon grinned. “I’m surprised that Prince Doran permitted the two of you to come here.”

“It’s more surprising that you are permitted here,” Obara grunted.

“I am ever in your father’s service,” Daemon replied with a mocking bow.

Seeing that Obara’s hands were twitching by her swords, Jon interrupted. “Why don’t we go to the Tower of the Hand?”

Smirking, Alyn bowed respectfully. “It would be my pleasure. If you will all follow me.”

Obara held Daemon’s gaze steadily for a few moments, looking as though she was ready to smack the pretty smile from his face. Yet she eventually relaxed and assented to traveling to the Tower. When they arrived at the Tower, they were greeted by Stark and Martell men, who gladly welcomed the new arrivals. Jon was shown to the rooms he had occupied with Arthur, while Obara and Nymeria were shown to rooms which had been unoccupied during Jon's last visit. The steward told them that their fathers were in a meeting with the king but would dine with them that evening.

Alone at last, Jon could not help but feel lonely. Traveling to King’s Landing the first time had been an adventure with his brother. They had not been in the city for long when they had been found by Lord Beric and Edric. At that time, they had been with their father and half-sisters and later Alys and Oberyn. In their escape south, he had known most everyone he had traveled with. Even on his trip to Sunspear, he had known several of his companions. Yet after Sunspear he was with people whom he barely knew. Of all the Sand Snakes, Jon had spent the most time with Tyene, Elia, and Sarella. He knew Nym and Obara only in passing.

He missed his brothers, his cousin, his sister, and even his half-sisters. He missed his mother and aunts. He missed Starfall, his home. He wondered if Arthur and Edric were safe. Had they already met with the opposing forces? Would they survive if and when that meeting took place?

Seeing no other option than to await the arrival of the rest of his belongings whenever the ship made it to the docks, or for the arrival of his father or Oberyn, Jon decided to rest.

Hours later, near evening, Jon dined alone with his father. Their table was laid with honeyed duck, caramelized vegetables, and fresh bread to eat. There was also wine, ale, and water to drink. All of which were welcomed after eating on a ship for so many days. Jon was surprised that Prince Oberyn did not join them, but the Prince was apparently dining privately with his daughters.

“How was your journey,” Lord Stark asked, shortly after they began eating.

The thought of it was overwhelming. He had been so many places since leaving Starfall that the months seemed a blur. “It seems as though I have barely stopped travelling since we departed from here. The weather has mostly been fair, though there was a brief storm as we sailed into the Bay. The heat was intense as we travelled to Blackhaven. Overall, I would say that my travels have gone well.”

“Good,” he replied warmly. “That is good to hear. I am glad that you have safely returned. How were Sansa and Arya when you last saw them?”

“They were well. Arya tried to run back initially, but she seemed content when I left Blackhaven. She and Edric ran through the whole castle on the day we arrived. He was showing her all of the galleries and the view of the mountains. Sansa seemed glad to rest.” He hesitated, remembering how disheartening being sent away had been. “They were... we were all upset that we did not have the chance to say fare well to you when we left.”

His reply was sober and apologetic. “I am sorry for sending all of you away without any word of warning. If events had proceeded differently I would have sent all of you to Dorne in a less stressful manner. Given all that occurred after your departures, I am glad that you were in a safer place. Since the coup, the city has been uneasy. A minor attempt was made to restore the throne to the Lannisters, though it was averted. Three men of the kingsguard were executed as a result.”

“When word arrived of King Renly’s ascension to the throne, I believe that it became more apparent to us that you were acting in our best interests. I am grateful that we were sent for our safety.” It was better to be sent away to be safe than to be sent away for being unwanted.

Lord Stark agreed, and they ate quietly again. A short while later, he spoke again. “Was Jeyne Poole well? Vayon, her father, has been concerned about her.”

“She was doing well when I last saw her. She scarcely left Sansa’s side, though she did speak with Alys as we travelled.”

“Vayon will be pleased to hear of her well-being.”

Jon agreed with his father. He knew it was painful for parents to be parted from their children. He felt a pang of guilt that he had not said anything to his own mother when he had run to King’s Landing so many months past. He missed her. “Perhaps they will be reunited soon,” he offered.

Lord Stark’s smile seemed both wistful and melancholy. “When the threat of the Lannisters is ended, we shall all be reunited with our loved ones.”

Jon illumined at his father’s words. His thoughts turned from his family to his betrothed. He longed to be reunited with her. “I hope that the threat shall be at an end shortly. My mother likely misses me quite dreadfully. I am also anxiously anticipating the day I may wed my betrothed. I was truly shocked by the proposed betrothal when it was told to me.”

"When Prince Oberyn spoke of your affection for his daughter, the match seemed a good way to unite our cause formally,” Lord Stark told him quietly, “I trust that you are both satisfied with the arrangement?"

"I am very happy father.” A broad grin spread across his face at the memory of Tyene accepting the match. “I was surprised that she assented, but very pleased that she did."

His father seemed pleased by his response. "I am glad. It is not often that marriages find joy or happiness when they are arranged. I hope that all of my children will find happiness in their marriages."

Something in his father’s tone intimated that there were more matches that had been planned. "Have any more been arranged?"

A motion of Lord Stark’s head confirmed the suspicion before he spoke. "Arthur should be wed to Cersei Lannister's daughter, when Myrcella is of age. One of Prince Oberyn's younger girls will wed the former prince Tommen when they are of age. As for the rest of your brothers and sisters, that has not been decided. Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey Hill has been invalidated as he is not whom he was represented to be. It is my belief that any more marriage arrangements can wait."

"Does my mother know?"

He swore that his father flinched. "She has been informed."

"These arrangements for myself and Arthur didn't involve her at all? She raised us, not you." Jon stood. Angry, he raised his voice. "I scarcely think it right for her to have no say in whom her children should wed."

Lord Stark’s face was somber and stony, but his tone remained even. "It was decided the day I learned of Alysanne's birth that I would choose whom all of you would wed. She has known that from the time of your infancy."

That was news to him. He quieted somewhat, trying to be mature. "Why didn't she say as much to us?"

"We didn't want to think upon it.” He sighed deeply. “When your mother and I write one another it has always been easier to avoid matters such as your futures. Before you and your brother arrived in King’s Landing for the tournament I could still only imagine you as I had last seen you, standing beside Alysanne, Arthur, and your mother by the docks of Starfall. Unfortunately you are no longer children. I have missed far too much of your lives. Yet even with having missed much of your life, I must do my duty and so must you. I am glad that your impending marriage should find happiness."

Jon swallowed hard and sat again, clenching his fists. How did this man have the right to decide their futures? And yet... he was happy with the woman he was to wed. Would his brothers and sisters be happy as well? A few moments later, they resumed eating quietly, though both picked at their food.

"King Renly would like to speak with you in the morning," Lord Stark said, some time later.

Jon looked up, shocked. "With me?"

"Yes. He said that he found your skills in the tournament grounds admirable. He also said that you spoke with one another before your departure."

"We did. I spoke with his grace and Ser Loras Tyrell at the tourney and a few other times during my stay here. I was going to ask, before the coup, if I could request to squire under him."

Lord Stark bowed his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps you may have that honor. In the morning we shall see what it is that he desires."

* * *

When morning came, Jon was brought to the King before he had broken his fast. Upon arriving at King Renly's solar, he saw that a meal had been laid out for both of them. Upon the table were breads, puddings, blood sausages, a pot of fish stew, boiled goose eggs, cheese, and a wide variety of fruit from Dorne and the Reach. The smell of it was wonderful and made Jon’s stomach growl.

"Your grace," Jon said with a bow when he was escorted into the room.

The young king smiled. His smile did not seem as carefree as when they had spoken before the coup. "Good morning Jon; come, sit, eat and drink. How was your journey?"

Jon favored him with a slow smile. "Long, your grace. I have hardly rested since I departed from here with my brother and sisters." He walked to the table and seated himself. "I imagine that you have been quite busy yourself. I am quite sorry for the loss of your brother, King Robert."

He acknowledged the sentiment with a gracious bow of his head, yet his mood seemed rather morose. "I thank you for the sentiment. My brother was a man of great passions, though he never learned that some passions should remain separate or moderate. A year ago I had two brothers and now I have none."

"None, your grace?" Jon knew that King Renly was the youngest of three brothers. Had something happened to Lord Stannis Baratheon?

The king laughed, a hollow tone. "Oh Stannis lives, for now, though it is unlikely that we shall be at peace ever again. He sends a letter a week denouncing me as traitor and usurper. I should have someone go to his island, take his head, and remove my niece to my custody. I could marry her to your father's heir and bring any attempt at dissent to an end. The Tyrells wish to wed her to their heir. As if I am so foolish to think they would not try to use her for their favor should I fail to produce an heir."

"Your grace?" Jon stared at the king, feeling very much like he should not be told these matters.

"You wonder why I say these things to you?” He hesitated and then he smiled quite wryly. “Quite simply, I have seen your skills with a sword and bow. You are quite a capable fighter. As you grow, you will only increase in skill. You are also the son of Lord Stark, one of the men who seated me upon the throne. You will be wed to a daughter of Prince Oberyn, whose help in installing me was pivotal. In light of that knowledge, I have a request to make of you.”

A request? Did King’s make requests? “Whatever you wish, your grace.” Was there any other answer to give?

"I would have you serve as part of my personal guard. I will have Kingsguard as well, though my number is currently three. When my brother died he had seven men of the guard, all that are left to me are Ser Barristan,” he gestured to the elderly knight who stood behind him. “Ser Preston,” he motioned to the knight at the door. “And Ser Arys who is resting at present. Sers Mandon, Boros, and Meryn were all executed. They made an attempt to free my prisoners and kill myself within two months of my ascension. Ser Preston and Ser Arys defended me. They were assisted by men who are loyal to myself.”

Jon was not certain how to process everything that he had just been told. He was shocked, elated, anxious, and pensive. “I... I can only begin to see the difficulties that your new position brings. My father made mention of their executions. It is good that you are unharmed. May I ask, how is it that you have such faith in me?”

Renly’s expression was mild. “If I cannot trust the son of a man who placed me upon the throne, who can I trust?”

Jon smiled slowly. "I see your point, your grace."

"Then do you accept?"

Jon pushed his seat away and knelt on the floor. "Yes, I should be honored to serve you as part of your personal guard."

Renly let out a genuine laugh and motioned for Jon to stand again. "Good! Eat then, and I shall tell you more about your duties."

They spent the next hour eating and discussing the matters which would be Jon's responsibilities while he served the King. When they were nearly finished, Lord Stark and Prince Oberyn were summoned to be told the news. Both seemed surprised, but pleased to hear of Jon’s new position.

* * *

Several weeks later, Jon stood beside King Renly and the Small Council as they stood upon the walls of the city. They watched as an envoy of thirty men, clad in armor and waving lion banners, was riding toward the gates. The men were allowed inside the city, though they were flanked on all sides by Baratheon men.

The King met the envoy in the throne room. He was seated upon the Iron Throne, high above everyone. He wore green, trimmed with gold, and bore a golden circlet upon his head.

Standing at the base of the throne were the men of Renly’s guard. Jon stood with the guard. In total, the guard consisted of the three Kingsguard, as well as twelve men and one woman of varying ages, most of whom hailed from the Stormlands. Each member of the personal guard was garbed in a different color, save the white clad members of the Kingsguard. Jon wore dark purple trimmed with silver. To him it was as though he wore the colors of his Houses even in service to the King.

Below them stood the men of the Small Council. Lord Stark stood as Hand. Ser Garlan Tyrell and Prince Oberyn Martell stood as advisors. Lord Baelish stood as Master of Coin. Lord Varys stood as Master of Whisperers. There was no Grand Maester in the group as Maester Pycelle was still held as a prisoner. To Jon’s relief, his father could now stand without a cast, though he was using a cane for added support.

The Lannister men were still loosely flanked by guards as they were led into the throne room. One of the men stepped forward from the group. He was a man in his late twenties, tall, with a mane of thick gold hair, a Lannister. He did not seem intimidated in the slightest, though he was surrounded by enemies.

When all were standing still and silent, the King spoke. “Has Lord Tywin sent you to restore peace to my kingdom, Ser Daven?” Jon did not miss the mocking humor in Renly’s voice.

Ser Daven Lannister scowled. “My Lord has sent me to demand the release of his family which have been imprisoned within this city. He names you usurper. He demands that his grandson be placed upon the throne, which is his birthright.”

When Ser Daven finished, there was silence for a time, then the King burst into a fit of laughter. From where he stood, Jon could see Prince Oberyn’s deadly grin. The rest of the councilors and guards remained stoic.

When Renly stopped laughing, he spoke. His tone was icy and humorless. “You can tell Lord Lannister that he is in no position to make demands. His grandchildren are bastards born of incest. Lady Cersei herself has confessed it to save her head and those of her children. Tywin Lannister has no claim to the throne. I have behind me the power of the southern and northern kingdoms. Lord Tywin stands alone. Tell you lord to bend the knee or he will see the heads of his daughter and his kin line the walls of the Red Keep shortly before his own head joins them."

Ser Daven’s hands clenched into tight fists. “I shall tell my lord what you have said on the condition that I see the prisoners before departing.”

There was a pause again as Ser Daven gazed up at the throne, awaiting an answer in silence. With a word from the throne, two of the guards opened one of the side doors. A few minutes later three people entered the room. Two were teenage boys while the third was a young girl. All three possessed the same gold hair as Ser Daven.

“Here are three of my prisoners, Ser Daven,” Renly said. “Lancel and Tyrek, sons of Ser Kevan, nephews to Lord Tywin, and former squires to my brother King Robert. I also present you with Myrcella, Lady Cersei’s daughter. Step closer to them, speak with them if you will. They have been unharmed and well treated. They can report on the conditions of their fellow prisoners. These and more will die if Lord Tywin does not cease his warring.”

Jon curled his hands into fists, willing himself not to feel sickened. Myrcella was only a young girl, her cousins standing beside her were near to Jon in age. To think that they could be executed... He stilled himself so that he did not shudder at the thought. Would King Renly still execute Myrcella if Lord Tywin did not kneel, even though she was pledged to marry Arthur when they came of age?

The King permitted Ser Daven to speak with his kin for several minutes before interrupting their reunion. “Are you satisfied, Ser Daven, with their condition?”

He inclined his head slightly in agreement. “I am.”

“Then go,” Renly commanded. “Return to your Lord. Tell him what you have heard and seen.”

Ser Daven agreed, and a few moments later he and his retinue exited the throne room while the prisoners were led back through the door where they had entered.

King Renly then dismissed the guards who were in the outer court, keeping his personal guard and the Small Council with him. The men of the council turned to face the king. Lord Stark seemed troubled. Prince Oberyn seemed to be bored while also appearing eager for whatever would come next. Ser Garlan Tyrell, Lord Baelish, and Varys all bore neutral expressions.

“Well my lords, what shall we make of this?”

“It seems that Tywin Lannister wishes us to believe that he will back down for nothing,” Lord Baelish replied.

“A foolish position,” said Varys, “even from him. He will not have the strength to siege King’s Landing.”

“We do not yet have the strength to hold King’s Landing either, my lords, your grace,” Ser Garlan said. “My father’s forces as well as half of the Dornish army are still making their way north.”

“There has been no word from my men since they departed from Moat Cailin,” Lord Stark offered. “Neither has Lord Hoster or Lord Edmure sent a raven on the status of Riverrun.”

“I need answers as to what we shall do next, not mutterings that we may fail. What do you say, Prince Oberyn? You always have an opinion on matters.”

The Viper’s grin was dangerous. “We should ride out to meet them, your grace.”

“Ride out?” Jon could hear anxious anticipation in the king’s voice, though he could not see what the king’s expression was for his back was to the throne.

“It would be safer to remain within the city,” Varys cautioned.

“But if we ride out, we can halve the distance between our army and the rest of the forces from the Reach and Dorne,” said Garlan. “We could surround Lord Tywin. My father’s army at last report was only a little over two weeks away. The scouts that first spied Lord Tywin’s men noted that the army was encamped between God’s Eye Lake and Stoney Sept. A courier should be able to reach the southern army and have them join us. One portion coming from the south and the other from the east. The Lannister army should be travelling south-east toward King’s Landing.”

“There are, however, many miles and many unknowns in leaving the city, your grace,” Baelish warned.

Renly’s laughed was scarcely contained. “To hear the day when you and Varys caution the same thing is quite an occasion, my lords. Yet I find myself agreeing with Ser Garlan. While we may be safer within these walls I will not start my reign cowering in a castle. A king must prove his strength in battle. We will wait to depart until Lord Tywin’s envoy is at least two days departed from the city. Then we will with haste ready ourselves and depart.”

Lord Stark looked to the king, pensive. “Your grace, it may be wiser for you to remain here while your armies head out to meet Lord Tywin. If harm should befall you the succession may be quite messy and dangerous for all who have supported you.”

“Messy, yes, but my riding out is necessary Lord Stark, surely you see that?”

“I do your grace.” Acquiescing, he bowed his head. “What should be done if the worst should befall you on the field of battle?”

His reply was careless laughter. "Crown my brother if I should die, though that would be unwise. Or crown yourself, my lord, if you so desire. Were it not for your leg, you too would ride into battle, everyone knows that much. Instead, you shall hold the city as my Hand."

He bowed again, and the other councilors with him. “As your grace commands.”

* * *

Rain was falling in heavy swaths two days after the King’s armies departed from King’s Landing. They tried to press on swiftly, but too many wagons stuck in the mud or broke wheels and axles that continuing in the rain was drastically slowed. The King tried to remain positive, yet even he grew grim in the grey days of marching westward.

Yet even with the rain slowing their movements, the hope remained that they would surprise the Lannister armies. Any outriders that had been seen had been killed on sight. The King's spies meanwhile had been able to report movements ahead with ease. If the timing worked as was hoped, the remaining portion of the southern army would approach from the south west while the King's army would approach from the east, giving very little chance for escape.

The rain slowed and tapered to a stop by mid-day on the fourth day. Their pace quickened and they were able to dry out their clothes and supplies.

A week into their march, bodies were seen floating in the Blackwater. The King ordered that the bodies be pulled ashore to prevent the waters of King’s Landing from being poisoned. The bodies, all commoners, were then buried in stone cairns that some of the men built.

The casual murder of men and women infuriated Jon. He awaited the upcoming battle eagerly, desiring that they might kill all who had harmed the innocent.

Days later, messengers between the two parts of King Renly’s forces met. The divisions of the army organized further, dividing up where each Lord would be positioned upon the field as they approached the Lannister armies. They were to the south of Stoney Sept when lion banners appeared on the horizon.

The armies who swore allegiance to the king formed three separate units. They were arrayed in a half-circle from the Blackwater Rush to where the Silver Hills bordered the Goldroad. Those under the command of Lord Mace Tyrell were positioned to the furthest west. The forces of Dorne, both those who had come north with the Tyrell army and those who had come from King’s Landing, held the center of the army under the command of Prince Oberyn Martell. The remaining forces from the Stormlands as well as other retainers were under the command of King Renly Baratheon, were positioned to the furthest east.

They slowly advanced until the circle they formed grew tighter around the Lannister forces. They pushed the Lannisters northward until they were surrounded. The Silver Hills were filled with men who were sworn to the King. The only route of escape left to the Lannisters the day before the battle would begin was through the opposing forces or north across the rapids of the headwaters of the Blackwater.

Jon was with the King and the rest of the King’s personal guard near the Blackwater Rush. He had parted with Prince Oberyn, Nymeria, and Obara several days prior when Oberyn and the Dornish force from King’s Landing joined the Dornish forces from the south. They would ride forth in the morning to face the Lannister army.

In the waning hours of twilight, along a distant hillcrest, Jon could see the banners of Dondarrion and Dayne. He thought of his brother and cousin who were surely encamped beneath those banners. He prayed that they might see one another again when the battles were ended.

He thought of his father. His parting words had meant much to Jon. “I am proud of you, Jon,” Lord Stark had said. “Fight well, my son.” Jon hoped to see him again.

His thoughts then turned to his mother. He assumed that the last thing she had told him was ‘sleep well wolf pup,’ she often said that to him before it was time to sleep. He had never said farewell to her. He had not given her a hug or kiss before he had run to King’s Landing. He had also never said farewell to Lucas. They would be devastated if he or Arthur were killed in battle.

The last tendrils of light faded into the evening dark. Jon went to his bedroll an hour or so later. He was not on the night watch, that duty fell to a very tall and not particularly attractive young woman named Brienne of Tarth and Ser Barristan Selmy.

He knew that he would not sleep well, but he did his best to try, tossing and turning before he drifted asleep, awaiting the dawn.

* * *

The sky had barely lightened when Arthur Sand was awakened. There would be no trumpets to announce the start of the attack, just orders whispered in the dark from commanders to their men and occasionally women. Arthur had shared a tent with Edric and Lord Dondarrion. They were among the first to be roused in the morning. Bread and stew were brought to them as they dressed.

“Eat enough to keep up your strength,” Lord Beric told them. “But do not eat so much that you will soil yourselves.”

“Why would we do that,” Arthur asked between mouthfuls of bread and stew.

Beric wore a grim expression. “Have you seen a man’s head parted from his body?” Both boys nodded slowly, they had both witnessed executions of criminals. “A battle is not as clean as that. I am too young to have fought in the wars, but I remember the bandit raiders in the Red Mountains which claimed the lives of my father and mother. By the days end, should to gods give us success, you will see hundreds of bodies strewn across the fields. Those who die early in the day will be trampled on by horses and bloated by the sun. Some may be split in two, others will be missing heads or hands. You may even see people you know well die upon the field. The more you eat, the more likely you are to vomit it back up by the day’s end.”

Arthur and Edric looked to one another, fear in their eyes. It was hard to take any more food after that, but they did, not knowing when they would get the chance to eat again. When they were finished breaking their fasts, they donned their armor. Beric and Edric also readied their weapons. Then they stepped out of the tent.

“Arthur, you will be joining the archers under the command of Lord Dagos Manwoody,” Beric informed him.

"So far back?” That didn’t seem fair at all. “But Edric is going with you into the battle."

His jaw tightened. "Edric is my squire and Lord of Starfall. He will learn beside me as we fight. You are an archer. Did I not see you win the contest in King's Landing? You will remain with the archers, where your skills will be best used."

Arthur hung his head, suddenly feeling like a foolish child. "I'm sorry my Lord. Your decision is wise."

"Ready yourself then. We will meet again when the battle ends."

“Yes my lord.” He felt so incredibly young, so unprepared. “Fight well.”

Lord Beric clasped his shoulder briefly and gave him a comforting smile. “The gods go with you Arthur.” He turned away and walked to his mount.

Edric stared at Arthur, uneasy. “I...”

Arthur embraced his cousin, and held tight for a long moment. What could he possibly say? He did not want to think of his cousin dying. With nothing else to say, he said what they always did when parting. “See you when you return Ned.”

He cracked a genuine smile and then laughed. “Try not to miss me too much Arthur.” He then turned and followed their uncle.

Among those walking in the same direction as Edric and Beric, Arthur spied Ser Gerold Dayne, called Darkstar. He was a distant cousin to the main branch of House Dayne. His reputation of pride and cruelty preceded him. He was not welcomed at Starfall as Lady Marissa had thought that he might harm Edric. Arthur’s mother and Aunt Allyria also seemed wary of the Lord of High Hermitage, concerned that he would attempt to claim Starfall. Arthur hoped that Lord Beric would keep Edric far from Gerold on the battlefield, just in case the fears of his aunts and mother were justified.

Arthur turned back to the tent. Arthur was in his armor, hardened leather with a metal breastplate. Heavier armor would prevent the range of motion he would need as an archer. Even his half-helm was mainly leather, though it was also bound with iron. He slipped his daggers into their sleeves and checked their fastenings before girding his sword.

He wished that he could wield Dawn into battle as his namesake had done. His mother had forbidden any of them from wielding Dawn until they were older. In fact it was one of the few things his mother and aunts agreed upon. Not until he and Jon and Edric and possibly Lucas were of age would any of them be chosen to be the new Sword of the Morning. Arthur thought it likely that Jon would be the new bearer of Dawn, but there was always a chance that it could be himself. So the sword he wore was steel instead of Valyrian Steel, well-wrought and well balanced.

After his sword was secured, he strapped on his quiver of arrows and his bow. In truth, he did not mind being with the archers; however, he also wanted his chance to prove himself with a sword.

His mother would be glad of his relative safety with the archers instead of the riders. He had feared that she would prevent his departure with Lord Beric when they had parted at Blackhaven. Yet she had parted from him without fuss or ceremony. She had given him a hug and a kiss and wished him well. He hoped that she would not be distraught with all but Alys and Lucas parted from her. She knew that he and Jon and Edric were all old enough to go to war.

He left the tent and went to the horse masters. He was given his mount, a fine red stallion named Apple who had been his for six years. They had grown together at Starfall and he took his mount regularly on hunts.

He fell in line with the other archers. They would take their positions along a ridge in the Silver Hills. When they rode to the ridge, Arthur was able to see the various forces which were assembled for war. The Lannisters were easily outnumbered.

His mount shied under him. His shaking hand stroked Apple's mane. "Peace," he murmured to his horse. "This is no different than a hunt."

His words sounded good in theory, but felt very wrong. He and Apple had hunted together since they were old enough to hunt. He had given Apple his name, the name seemed silly now, but at eight years of age, he had named the horse for their favorite food. He knew that hunting stags, lions, and foxes was not the same as killing men in battle. Perhaps Apple knew the difference too.

Arthur had never killed a person. He had never seen combat beyond training and melees. He had rarely seen a man killed. Even death had been rare in his life. Men and women who worked at Starfall died, children often died of sicknesses, but he had seldom seen their bodies. The worst had been the man who had washed ashore at Starfall when Arthur was eight or nine, he had been half eaten by water and sea creatures.

Today he would have to kill. He unstrapped his bow and held it in his trembling hands. "Like hunting," he whispered through parched lips. The armies of House Lannister were terribly outnumbered and the battle cry would be alarming so early in the morning. They had to know that the battle was upon them this day.

The horns were blown as the first streaks of red and gold appeared in the sky. He could see the Lannister armies. Some were at the ready, perhaps anticipating an early attack. Others were scrambling to arms and horses, those who had been sleeping in the night.

 _Slaughter_ , he thought, _swallowing hard_.

Jon would be here too, though where Arthur did not know. Would Jon kill today? Would Jon be safe?

The armies slowly rallied. Each man and woman moved to their positions. From the farthest portion of the army which was encamped along the silvery waters of the Blackwater under the Baratheon banner to the nearest armies of Dorne and the Reach which were scattered amongst the hills, all were readied for the day. All were standing in their lines, waiting the orders to attack. He pulled an arrow from his quiver. Even the Lions were assembling in their lines.

 _Like hunting_ , he told himself, _except that these were people who would die._

The order was called to ready their arrows. The horns blew again. He raised the bow, nocked the arrow. The men on both sides advanced.

_What if I miss?_

_What if I hit one of our men?_

_Must I kill?_

He could hear the shouts of both sides rushing toward one another.

"Loose."

He saw a target, down in the valley clothed in red and gold. He drew back the arrow, and let it soar. The arrow missed.

He was shaking.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. He looked again. The armies drew still nearer. Arrows came near to him from the enemy.

_Enemies who will kill you._

He raised his bow, he trusted the bow. It was his own weapon. He knew the tension of the wood, of the string. He drew an arrow from the quiver. He nocked the arrow, pulled, and let the arrow fly. A man fell from his horse, blood pouring from his helm where the arrow had lodged under his neck.

Arthur continued to loose his arrows. Each one hit and felled another man.

 _It’s like hunting_ , his mind repeated, _except that people die._

* * *

Jon's heart was racing as they joined the battle. He remembered the melee at King's Landing and recalled a similarity to that day. He knew that today was deadly earnest, unlike that day. His job was to guard the king, to win, and to survive.

He could glimpse the banners of Dorne on the crest of the hill. Arthur, Edric, Beric, Oberyn, Nymeria, and Obara would be somewhere in that throng, he knew. He breathed a prayer to the gods for safety as they fought. He wanted to see his kin alive again.

King Renly remained back, searching the field for the commanders. They would be on the search for him also. That was the way of war. Yet even further back in the sea of bodies, Jon, the King, and the men and woman of the guard found blood upon their blades.

The Lannister men pressed forward, only to be pushed back by the onslaught of arrows which streamed down upon them from the archers and the waves of horse and foot soldiers which pressed forward between the volleys. They drew back and pressed forward again, only to be pushed back yet again. Between the pushes, young squires would scatter across the fields to retrieve arrows, many of the boys would be slaughtered as they scrambled across the blood soaked field.

The third push forward by the Lannister men was made around mid-day, when the arrows were in short supply. They directed the brunt of their forces toward the King.

To his left, Jon could see the forces under the flag of House Martell rush forward, encircling and culling a wide swath of Lannister men, though their own men and women were falling from their horses during the assault. Those who fled from the fray were met with bursts of arrows which the archers unleashed upon them.

At last, the lines of Lannister forces were broken. Smallfolk began to flee, only to be felled by arrow, mace, and horse. The King seized upon the moment to charge forward, directing himself and his men toward the commanders: Lords Tywin and Kevan Lannister.

The King was surrounded by his guards. Jon rode to Renly’s right. The three Kingsguard rode in front of the King, their white cloaks made their position more obvious and vulnerable. A group of armored knights detached from the main force which surrounded Lord Tywin. They charged toward the King.

Swords, shields, horses, and men all clashed with shouts and fury. Jon could scarcely see what was happening from one moment to the next. He lost count of the number of men who died upon his blade. Having seen death in increasing amounts over that past several days and hours, Jon had begun to feel rather numb toward all of it. It was easier to think of the men on the field as less than human, to not think of the fact that they must have homes and families to which they longed to return. This was the nature of duty and war; it held no joy or pleasure.

His horse fell out from under him, cut down but a man whose head was swiftly removed by Lady Brienne. She was a terrifying warrior, Jon realized in that moment. She lacked finesse, but made up for it in strength and speed.

Somehow they were all on the ground shortly after that. Steel clashed with steel. Shouts and screams echoed across the fields. Somewhere people were shouting names of the gods, loved ones, and overlords.

Several of the Lannister noblemen were fallen but others still advanced.

Jon still fought beside his King. Renly was easily cutting through his foes with quick slashes and lunges with his sword and mace. Jon ensured that no one could approach the King from the right, along with several other swordsmen and Brienne.

Then Jon saw the danger. A man with a spear. He was riding swiftly forward upon a white horse which was streaked red with blood.

Jon knew his duty. He acted without thinking and pushed the King away.

Then he felt a sudden shock of pain, sharp and dull at the same time.

He saw the horse and rider fall to the ground, dead.

Then the world went black.


	16. Hope in the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! I'm sorry for how long it has been since I updated, but hopefully this chapter's length makes up for that a little. The chapters should be published more regularly from now on.
> 
> The only story related notes I can think of is that this chapter is not entirely chronological and that I invented more Lannister cousins from Joanna's side of the family.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, your comments, and for those of you who have been messaging me lately for more! Thanks to Spiff's Oliphaunt for all your help!

# *****ROBB

Riverrun held tranquility within its walls, perhaps due to the sound of rushing water which could be heard everywhere within the grounds of the castle. To Robb Stark, it was a welcomed respite after the long journey from Winterfell and the battle which he had led in the Whispering Wood. After a few days in the castle, he could understand why his mother loved her childhood home so much.

When walking through the godswood, he was struck by the serenity of the place. Though the godswood at Riverrun was vastly different from the godswood in Winterfell, he still felt the same deep solemnity within. He sunk his fingers into Grey Wind's thick fur and stroked his direwolf as they sat beside the riverbank. He hoped they could return home soon. He missed his brothers, sisters, and father. He wanted to return to the normalcy of life before King Robert had come north. Yet he knew life could not be the same, not after all that had come to pass.

His thoughts drifted to Bran. The last time Robb had seen his little brother, he was in bed supported by cushions. To think that his brother would never walk again hurt more than words could express. Bran had always been so brave, so adventurous. He had climbed the walls of Winterfell since he was little. How could he make his little brother smile or laugh when he could never walk or run or ride again?

He worried for his mother. She had not been the same since Bran's fall and attempted murder. Even now, safe in Riverrun, she was often weary and discontent. She was concerned for the failing health of her father, Lord Hoster. She worried for Sansa and Arya who, according to Robb’s father, were not in King’s Landing but safe. She worried for Bran and little Rickon, who were now without mother or father for over half a year. She also feared for father and missed him terribly.

Robb missed his father as well. It had been too long since he had heard his father's voice, his wisdom. _‘Will he be proud of me?,’_ he wondered. _‘Of how I have managed Winterfell and the North in his absence_?’ He hoped his father would be proud. He hoped that he had managed the armies of the North well.

The battle in the Whispering Wood had been a great success. The armies of Damion Lannister had been taken unawares. There were casualties on both sides, but the victory had been incredible. It was passing strange to Robb that Jaime Lannister had not been present. Birds had flown saying that he had been with the armies in the Riverlands, but when at last the armies met, he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had gone south with the armies of Tywin Lannister. It would have been nice to hurt Jaime Lannister in battle, a small payback for crippling Bran.

His mind still reeled from the events of that evening. They had surrounded the enemy and lay in ambush, waiting for the Lannister men to draw near. When they saw the men, horns were sounded and they descended upon the enemy. The battle itself was a blur. Steel clashed against steel. Horses screamed. Men shouted, bled, and died.

Robb himself had been both terrified and exhilarated. There had been something else as well, a strange hunger. A sharpness in scent, sight, and sound. A taste of blood upon his lips though no blood was in his mouth.

He shook his head to move the thought out of his mind. In doing so, he noticed the yellow eyes of his direwolf peering up at him. Robb stroked the fur on both sides of his wolf’s head. “Do you understand me?”

Grey Wind proceeded to lick Robb’s hand before moving away so that he might lie down and clean his paws. With a defeated sigh, Robb looked at his wolf with feigned disapproval. “Some help you are.” The wolf paused his ministrations to glance up, clearly unimpressed. He then returned to the very important task of cleaning his paws.

Robb spent a few more moments ruminating on the strange sensations which he had experienced in the battle before he decided to lie back and just relax. He lost track of the time resting there, and roused only when he heard footsteps on the path. Sitting up and turning, he saw his mother walking toward him.

"Good afternoon mother, how is grandfather?"

She pursued her lips, worry clouded her blue eyes. "His mind tires easily. I think he shall forget me soon."

"I'm sorry." His grandfather seemed to be a good man. It was a pity that they had not spent more time together. Now it was likely that Robb would never have the opportunity to truly know his grandfather.

Her smile was sad as she sat beside him on the grass. "Death is a part of life sweetling. It is never pleasant when it comes, but none of us can stop its coming. My father has lived a long and full life. Many cannot say they have lived so well as he. Even so, he may yet last several years, or the gods may take him sooner.”

Robb bowed his head low at his mother’s words. Death came for everyone when it was their time. Torrhen Karstark had died beside him in the Whispering Wood. Bran had come close to death but had survived. It was only the gods who knew when and why all men must die. “Will you remain here for a time to keep your father company?”

She shook her head slowly. “Your brothers need me at home, though we must await word from your father before we make any decisions.”

“Have you written to him yet?”

“A raven flew this morning. Hopefully we will have word soon of what he will have us do.” She plucked a daisy from the ground and ran her fingers along its silky petals.

“Do you think that the men I sent to King’s Landing were good choices?”

“I do. Lord Umber and your father hold one another in high regard. Lord Karstark will find the journey a good distraction after the loss of his son. Remaining idle would only have served to frustrate him, I fear.” She smiled at him, proud. “You have made many wise decisions in the absence of myself and your father.”

He was pleased by her praise. Leading the Northern Lords was no easy task. “Thank you. Do you think that father will have us come to him?”

“He may. In truth, I would prefer for all of us to be home together again.”

“I want that as well mother. I would bet that father and my sisters miss us as much as we miss them. Has there been any word of Sansa or Arya?”

“Your father’s last message said that they were safe.”

“But it also said that they were not in King’s Landing. Where could they be?”

She pressed her lips together as she did whenever she was about to scold Robb or one of his siblings. “I think it likely that he sent the girls to Dorne.”

He turned to her, stunned. “To... to Dorne? But he... oh...”

“With Lord Tywin’s armies in the Riverlands it may have been safest to entrust your sisters to... allies in Dorne.”

“With my half-brothers and half-sister.”

“It would seem the likeliest of routes for them to have taken, given his surety of their safety.”

He didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He had never put much thought into his half-siblings beyond knowing that they existed. He was curious about them. He wondered what they were like. He wondered what it would have been like to have grown up with brothers who were closer in age to himself. Theon was like an older brother, but he wasn’t blood. These half-brothers and half-sister who lived in Dorne were family, even though they were strangers. Even though their existence was a blot on their father’s honor and a source of pain to Robb’s mother.

“If they are in Dorne, do you think they are happy?”

She forced a thin smile to her lips. “If they are safely in Dorne, I am certain that they are both learning many new things. I have never been to Dorne but know that it is quite different from most of the kingdoms. I am certain that Arya would enjoy herself there. She named her direwolf after Queen Nymeria of the Rhoynar. She has also never been content to remain in one place for long. She always wants to see new things.”

Robb laughed. He could imagine Arya poking around the desert and the southern sea, learning whatever she could from anyone whomever would talk to her for more than a minute. “When we see them again I am certain they will have interesting tales to tell us.”

“Indeed they will.” She sighed gently. “We should go inside, it is nearly time for the evening meal.”

“Of course, mother.”

Robb stood, and then helped his mother to stand. They walked along the paths of Riverrun, Grey Wind trailing behind them. As they walked, Robb hoped that his sisters were happy, wherever they were.

# *****TYENE

With mild amusement, Tyene Sand watched the line of horses which approached the Water Gardens. Such had been the daily scene for weeks since her arrival. She had been living there since the departure of her betrothed and elder sisters from Sunspear.

The Water Gardens were teeming with life, all guests of Prince Doran. All three of Tyene's cousins were present, an event which had not occurred in some years. Also present was Ellaria Sand with her four daughters, Tyene's youngest sisters. All anxious to learn some bit news from King's Landing.

Today's arrivals to the gardens were Lady Ashara Dayne, with Alysanne and Lucas, and with Sansa and Arya Stark. Tyene's amusement came from watching Alys racing along the coastal road, trailed by her little brother and one of the other young riders. Lucas and the other young one were not as skilled as Alysanne at riding, frequently slipping in their saddles.

Alysanne was the first to arrive at the entrance to the Gardens, hair wild and cheeks flushed red. She slid from her saddle and turned to watch her followers. Lucas was the next to arrive, followed closely by a young girl whose hair was just as thick, dark, and wild as Alysanne's. Grooms appeared from the stables to care for the horses and to help the young ones off of their mounts. Tyene walked from the porch, where she sat, to the long colonnade at the entrance.

"You should be more careful when you ride sweetling," she announced as a greeting.

Alys turned from straightening the girl's hair, laughing. "I had no issues riding so swiftly."

Tyene tsked. "These young ones did, however."

"They will get better as they grow," Alys replied.

"I ride fine," the girl announced. "And I'm not a young one!"

Alys smirked. "Tyene Sand, meet Lady Arya Stark, my half-sister."

"A pleasure, Lady Arya," Tyene replied with a graceful dip of her knees.

"I'm not a lady either," she protested.

Tyene turned her head to the side, observing the girl. "You're a bit like Arthur aren't you?"

She seemed puzzled by the comparison, which quieted her. Alys merely grinned in agreement. When no one spoke, Tyene continued. "Welcome to the Water Gardens. Princess Arianne should be out soon. I know that she has been busy with her brothers lately."

"Brothers?” Alysanne stopped fussing with her sister’s hair again. “The princes are both here?"

"Yes, Prince Doran desired their company. Should peace come soon, Arianne and Quentyn shall both be wed rather swiftly."

"And you it seems."

Tyene forced a smile at that. She wondered if she should have agreed to marry. She knew it wasn't fair to Jon that she doubted, but the idea of marriage was daunting. She knew so few good marriages. Her father had never wed, rejecting the very idea.  Her uncle’s wife had abandoned their marriage and children to return to Norvos. Her Aunt Elia’s marriage had ended in betrayal and horror. Why then should she hope for anything better?

"Indeed, we shall be sisters then." Something flickered in Alysanne's eyes at the statement, some darkness that Tyene could not describe.

"It shall be lovely to be certain. Have you any word from King's Landing? We did not stay at Sunspear long enough to learn any news."

"None as of yet. It seems that we shall all learn news of the war here, whenever it comes. Come, refresh yourselves with me." She led them onto the porches which looked over the roadway and poured for each of them water mixed with lemon and mint. The rest of the horses began to arrive after a time. Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn Martell appeared just as Lady Ashara and a girl with bright red hair were exiting a litter.

Arianne and Quentyn were both garbed in bright orange linen, loose and flowing so that they would remain cool in the heat of the desert sun. Quentyn bore no further embellishments beyond the intricate embroidery on the edges of his tunic and trousers. Arianne, on the other hand, sparkled from the gold and jewels which she wore around her neck, upon her arms, and upon her head. Her gown was slit to her knees on both sides of her legs, allowing for the lacing of her sandals to be seen.

"Welcome to the Water Gardens," Arianne announced brightly. "You have been expected, Lady Ashara." Tyene stepped forward with Alysanne, Lucas, and Arya. "It would seem that three of your charges have arrived before you."

"Thank you for the welcome, my Princess," Ashara replied with a graceful curtsey. She then kissed the Prince and Princess upon their cheeks in greeting. "My children and their half-sister desired to race to the Gardens." She motioned to Arya and the red-haired girl, and they moved to stand beside her. "Princess Arianne, Prince Quentyn, may I present the ladies Sansa and Arya of House Stark."

The girls curtsied and then were kissed in greeting by Arianne. At least young Arya did not protest her title before the heirs of Dorne. Sansa seemed polite enough. Her greeting was fitting for a highborn girl. "Thank you for your hospitality, Princess Arianne. You must be excited to be betrothed to the king."

"I am greatly honored by his grace’s decision to marry me," she replied. "Thank you, Lady Sansa. I had head heard that you had been betrothed to the former crowned prince."

Sansa frowned delicately. “I was, though he was no true prince.”

Arya muttered something under her breath at that, which earned her a glare from her sister. Tyene stepped forward, smiling amiably. “Perhaps your Lord father shall arrange a better match for you in the future as he has so graciously done for your half-brother.” Seeing Sansa’s confusion, Tyene introduced herself. “My name is Tyene Sand, third-born daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell, I am to wed your half-brother Jon.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Sansa replied, smiling politely.

“Your half-brother and my cousin will be quite happy together,” Arianne said with her brilliant most smile. Tyene smiled warmly as well, why share her doubtfulness with anyone? “Come, refresh yourselves with us while your rooms are prepared.”

Lady Ashara bowed respectfully to Arianne. “Thank you, my Princess and Prince, for welcoming us into your father’s court.” The Stark girls echoed Ashara’s actions; then they all turned and followed Arianne inside.

*****T*****

The arrivals to the Water Gardens eventually slowed and a semblance of normalcy could be found within the palace. Tyene couldn’t remember the last time her uncle had hosted so many, likely not since Arianne had come of age. It was nice to be with her uncle, youngest sisters, and cousins, not to mention all the children who played in the pools.

Tyene could hear the children laughing and splashing long before she stepped into the courtyard where the children played. She laughed at the sight of Trystane, Obella, Dorea, Lucas, and Arya engaged in a rather intense splashing battle which was causing most of the younger children to flee to the edges of the pools while the older children were joining them.

She carefully edged her way around the floor, avoiding the water on the slick stones, to the platform where Alysanne was leaning against an orange tree. Tyene plucked an orange from the tree and sliced it open with her dagger. She dried the blade on the wide green sash of her gown before re-sheathing it. She slipped one segment between her lips and wordless offered some of it to Alys who accepted half of the fruit. She then rested a hip against the low wall of the platform, watching her betrothed’s sister.

"Is anything the matter Alys?"

Alysanne shrugged, intently picking at the fruit. "No, why?"

"I’m not certain. You seem off. Ever since you arrived you haven’t seemed happy."

Sighing, she looked up. "We are at war, my brothers and cousin could die.”

“My father and sisters could die in the battle as well, not to mention my betrothed. That’s not the problem.”

“Would you believe me if I said that it was my time of the month?"

"No, you were in the women's pools earlier."

Alysanne's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I am having a disagreement with my mother."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Her reply was curt, causing Tyene to raise her brows.

"As your future sister by marriage I would like to help."

Tyene could have sworn that Alys flinched. "I am uncertain what can help, but thank you."

"Are you upset that your brothers are betrothed and you are not?" It was a guess, anything to try determining Alysanne’s uncharacteristic mood.

"Somewhat. I am upset that our father chose the matches without our mother's consent. She claims that she is not bothered. Yet what does that mean for myself or Lucas?"

"You can always choose a man to elope with."

Alys laughed. "Perhaps I may."

Tyene laughed with her, glad that she had elicited some sort of positive response from Alysanne. She turned to the pools, noticing that her sisters, cousin, Lucas, and Arya had retired to the steps of the pools, catching their breath.

“Your half-sister seems happy here.”

“Both of my sisters seem happy here. Perhaps being around more children their own ages can distract from missing their family so much.”

Tyene pursed her lips together. “Have they had a difficult time being with your mother?”

Alysanne shifted on her feet, glancing at her sister and brother. “They are not overly fond of my mother but they have been mostly polite. Arya adores Lucas, though I think that Arya would befriend anyone she sets her mind to liking. Sansa is polite to Lucas and mother but she doesn’t seem particularly interested in knowing either.”

“Do they like you?”

“Yes,” she replied with an easy smile. “They also liked Jon and Arthur, so far as I could tell. They both seem to like having an older sister, though I think that Sansa wishes the world were less complicated. It is not easy to meet with your father’s other children.”

“It has become easier as time goes by,” Tyene replied, bemused.

Alys let out a sharp laugh. “I forgot that you would understand.”

“I don’t fully understand what it is like to be in your situation. I have no trueborn sisters. The eldest four of us don’t even share the same mother.” She shrugged casually. “I can imagine that it is difficult for all of you. Though I think it must be harder on your half-sisters to be here, so far from home. Dorne must be very strange for them.”

“It is. Our food is different, far spicier than they are accustomed to eating. Our clothes are strange to them, and our weather is painfully hot while they played with snow before leaving home a year ago.”

“Snow... I wonder what it would be like to touch such a strange thing.”

Alysanne walked to the wall and leaned against it as well. “As do I, though I doubt that either of us will see snow unless we travel northward during winter.”

“Perhaps we might do that. Arianne wants me to be one of her ladies when she goes to King’s Landing. It does snow there in winter.”

“True.”

“Do your sisters like the Dornish clothes they have been given?” The girls had been far too hot in the dresses they had brought to Dorne. To keep them cool, Lady Ashara and Lady Ellaria had found clothes for the girls to wear. Dornish dresses were made to keep the wearer cool in the blistering desert sun. Many traditional Dornish gowns were made from a single large cloth which was wrapped in a variety of styles. Such a style of dress allowed for clothes to be shared with ease.

“Yes, they and Sansa’s companion Jeyne are all much happier in the dresses they have been given. I think at first that they worried since the cloth is so thin, yet they have not complained since donning it. Our warm sands were not made for the clothes of the north."

"No," she agreed. "Dorne is not made for those who are not Dornish."

She elicited a laugh from Alysanne. "Though there are exceptions for half-bloods like ourselves."

"Indeed."

"Where is Sarella? I have not seen her since she was at Starfall."

"She has been visiting Oldtown."

"What is she doing there?"

Tyene made a non-committal move of her shoulders. "I cannot say that I understand any of my sisters well enough to know why they do anything. She will return when she is bored."

"Does she go there to bother Obara?"

Tyene giggled. "No, Obara's hatred of Oldtown and Sarella's love of the same city have nothing to do with one another."

"It's so strange to see them together," Alys commented.

Tyene looked to where Alysanne was gazing and saw her uncle seated with Arianne and Quentyn upon one of the terraces. "Indeed. I believe my uncle is imparting wisdom upon them both before they are wed and placed in new positions. Of course his wisdom will mostly consist of scolding them to not make hasty decisions."

Alysanne's burst of laughter was delightfully unladylike, causing Tyene to grin. "Ty!"

"Tis true," she defended.

"You are wicked."

Tyene smiled as innocently as she could manage. "Only some of the time."

"Do you think that Arianne will have you legitimized when she is queen?"

The idea froze Tyene’s thoughts. She had never considered being legitimized. "Why would she do that?"

"She plans for you to be part of her household. It would be more appropriate for a Queen's companions to be legitimate."

"I am her cousin, and bastard born even if I were to be declared legitimate. It matters little one way or the other. Arianne would never forbid myself or my sisters from visiting her whenever she attains the throne. It is a strange thing to consider. I have never pondered what it would be like to be trueborn before. It seems rather dull and restrictive. Have you thought about it?"

"Not often... but were I trueborn then I would be the heir of Winterfell."

Tyene laughed. "No sweetling, Jon would be the heir, providing that you and your brothers were Lord Stark's only children, you would fall after all male claimants. You would however be third in line to Starfall."

Alys frowned. "Dornish succession is far more sensible than that of the other kingdoms."

"Indeed, perhaps my sweet cousin can amend their ways when she is Queen."

“Mmm perhaps, though I am doubtful.” She looked to her younger brother and sister and smiled. “I am glad that they are getting along. I should go see to Sansa. I promised her that I would help her practice her calligraphy and poetry.”

Tyene smiled and hooked her arm around Alysanne’s. “An enlightening endeavor. I believe that I shall join you.”

*****T*****

Days and weeks passed with little to no news of the war. As the days stretched on, Tyene grew more and more uneasy. Sleep began to be a phantom friend for Tyene as she worried more and more for her father, sisters, and Jon. Some nights she and Arianne would sleep beside one another, whispering secrets as they had since they were girls. They could both sleep more easily when they were together, but tonight Tyene was alone and restless.

In the dark of the night she left her chambers and walked the halls of the Water Gardens so that she might tire herself. She walked to the roof, into the black of the night. The lit torches were few and far between, enough to see the pathway but little else. The stars overhead were vast and innumerable. The soft sigh of the desert, the low rumble of the ocean, the gentle rippling of the palace pools, and the distant cries of sand wolves combined into a soothing music.

It was tempting to sleep outside under the stars. No one would disturb her, not here. She could wake with the sun before the roof became hot in the summer sun. But that would be improper, and propriety was always her game.

She tarried there awhile, listening to the night. Until the need for sleep came again to her. She walked from the roof to the lower floors of the palace. Still restless but too tired to wander anymore.

As she walked along the corridor to her rooms, she saw Yorick standing by the open arches which lined the wall of the inner courtyard. She knew him well, very well. He was tall, well-built, and possessed the most dazzling green eyes. He was her elder by two years. They had met along the banks of the Greenblood River when she was only fifteen. He was one of the Orphans of the Greenblood, so different from the Rhoynish who had melted into the rest of Dornish society. The sight of him awoke some very provocative thoughts within her.

He turned at sound of her footsteps, smiling once he recognized her. "So beautiful a woman to see at such a late hour."

She forced a thin smile. "So tired a woman as well."

He approached and greeted her with a kiss upon both cheeks. "Why has sleep fled from you this night? What troubles you?"

She was too tired for idle chatter. Was it not obvious what troubles would keep her awake? "I fear for my father, sisters, and friends who have gone to war."

"The gods will keep them."

"But will the gods return them alive to Dorne?"

"Your words are true, sweet Tyene." His hands had yet to leave her waist. His tone changed from cordial to a deeper timbre. "Would you like me to keep you company tonight? So that I may ease your fears?"

She should have said no instantly, but she found herself hesitating. He used that hesitation to bring his hand gently to her neck where he proceeded to trace soft lines along her collarbone. Reluctant, she pulled herself away. "I am a woman betrothed," she reminded him.

He shrugged off her words. "Betrothed is not wed. Besides, you are no maiden. You could think of it as a farewell between us."

She could feel the color rise in her cheeks. “We already made our farewells Yorick, years ago.”

With that, she turned, but he caught her arm and held her firmly from behind with his other hand around her waist. He proceeded to kiss her neck, just the way he always had when he wanted her to melt. "Stop," she protested weakly, not quite believing the word.

He chucked, knowing that her heart was not behind her protest. "You don't mean it."

She bit her lip, trying to muster her resolve. She must be loyal to Jon. She had to. Just as she was about to protest again, he suddenly froze and released her.

"Leave my sister alone," a girl hissed from behind.

Tyene turned and, stepping away, saw Elia holding a knife to Yorick's back. She thanked the gods for her little sister. "You should do as my sister commands Yorick.”

He jumped a little as Elia pushed the knife forward for emphasis.

"Of... of course. Sorry to bother you." He fled a moment later.

Tyene laughed and kissed Elia as she sheathed her knife. "You are wonderful sweetling."

She was still glaring after him. "Was he trying to hurt you?"

"No.” But he was a test of my fidelity, she thought to herself. “Why are you awake?"

"I can't sleep. Not when I know there has been no word from father or sisters in so long."

"That is why I am awake as well. Do you want to sleep beside me? Perhaps we will sleep if we rest beside one another?"

She grinned. "I would like that."

So they walked the rest of the way to Tyene’s room. Tyene removed her slippers and curled under her silks. Elia removed her slippers as well, and then her knife which she laid upon the vanity. She then crawled into bed beside her sister.

"Why were you wandering the halls with a knife," Tyene asked as her sister adjusted herself in the bed.

"I always have a knife; plus it made the man let you go."

"That it did." Tyene was mentally kicking herself for not getting rid of him on her own. What a horrible person she was for not being loyal to Jon.

Elia turned to face Tyene, frowning. "Was he going to hurt you?"

"No sweetling,” she smoothed strands of hair behind her sister’s ear. “He would not have hurt me."

"Would you have gone with him?"

_Yes_... "No. I am to wed Jon, it is not my place to bed another man."

"But you weren't fighting him off. Even though you are going to marry Jon."

She sighed heavily. "It's complicated. You will understand that more as you get older."

"You liked him once didn't you?"

"I did. We were together for two years when I was seventeen."

"But that was years ago, why does he want to go to you now?"

"Because our hearts are often fickle. Father has loved many women and he has bedded more than he has loved."

"Father loves my mother though."

"Aye, that he does, but he loved my mother as well, and Nym’s, and I think Sarella’s." Tyene, along with Obara, Nymeria, and Sarella were under the firm assumption that their father had loved Nym’s mother best. He spoke often and well of her, but always with sorrow. She had died birthing Nym. Afterward, her family sent Oberyn and Nym away.

"But not Obara's."

"Obara's mother was a whore. Whores sell sex not love."

She abruptly changed the subject. "Do you love Jon?"

She hesitated answering that. Elia stared at her with more intensity than anyone should manage at that hour of the night. "I don't know."

"But you agreed to marry him."

"I didn't wish for him to marry you."

Elia sat up, puzzled. "Me?"

"Father wrote that Jon was to wed one of us, but knowing that Jon and I were fond of one another, proposed the match between Jon and myself."

"I wouldn't have married Jon."

"Oh.” What a curious reaction. “Is there another whom your heart wants?"

She hesitated, suddenly shy, but when she spoke her words came out in a rush. "Arthur, but he's betrothed to Myrcella Hill and she's just a child. He doesn't know her. But he knows me and he can't marry her." She flung herself dramatically face forward onto the bed and sobbed.

"Sweetling.” Tyene ran a soothing hand along her sister’s back. “If they do wed it won't be for many years. Does he even know that you like him?"

She shook her head, her face still buried in the sheet.

"Our loves change over time. You may get over this by the time you are old enough to wed."

"No I won't!” Was her emphatic protestation.

"Shhh,” she soothed. “You may, or he may come to like you as well. I am not saying that your heart will hurt less in the process." Tyene was no stranger to a broken heart, much as she might deny it outwardly. More than once she had let the wrong person inside.

Elia unburied her face and turned to Tyene. "Did you lose a love?"

"I have lost many who held my affections, but I doubt that I have ever truly been in love."

"But you love Jon. You must if you agreed to marry him."

"I..."

"Why did you agree if not for love?"

"I didn't want him to marry another. I didn't want him to go to war without me agreeing to marry him."

Elia pressed her lips together, pondering. "Do you miss him all the time?"

"Yes," she eventually replied.

"Isn't that love?"

"I... I don't know."

"It must be because I miss Arthur all the time and I know that I love him."

Tyene was far too exhausted to continue the conversation. "Perhaps you are right sweetling. I truly don’t know. Can we try to sleep now?"

“If we must.” Yawning dramatically, Elia repositioned herself in the bed so that her back was to Tyene.  A few minutes later, they both drifted asleep.

Early the next morning, as they were breaking their fasts, an urgent meeting was called. News had arrived from the north. A raven from King's Landing had arrived, bearing news both good and ill. It was mostly family who were gathered, Tyene noticed. Ellaria with her girls and Prince Doran with his children were there, but so were the Stark girls, Lady Ashara with Alys and Lucas, and the heads of Houses who were awaiting news in the Water Gardens.

Prince Doran must have already read the missive for he seemed very weary and withdrawn. It was Areo Hotah who read the letter. He seemed reluctant to speak the words out loud, but performed his duty nonetheless.

The battles were ended, was the first part of the proclamation. King Renly Baratheon, first of his name, had now secured the loyalty of the Lannisters. The cost of peace had been bought with blood. A short list of the dead was then read, both foe and friend alike.

He hesitated near the end of the list. Then he spoke a final name. Tyene looked around the room, shocked and distressed. Then she fled to her chambers where she threw herself upon the bed and sobbed.

# *****ARTHUR

The tents for the wounded stretched for more than a mile along the banks of the Blackwater River. Maesters and healers were working with little sleep to help the injured. They also recruited assistants from whomever was willing and able. The battle was ended three days past, but cleaning the battlefield still continued. Arthur Sand walked amongst the tents of the wounded, searching for his brother.

It had taken Arthur nearly a day to find the men of his own House. Though he had begun the battle upon the ridge with Lord Manwoody and the archers, he had ended it upon the riverbanks under Lord Randyll Tarly's command. He couldn't even fully remember how that had come to pass. When their arrows had run low, Arthur and several others had been moved to another commander. They had been led into the valley so that they could take out a band of soldiers who were attempting to attack the archers on the ridge.

Arthur tried to forget the look of terror on the face of the first man he had killed with his sword. He tried to forget the sensation of flesh parting beneath his blade. Sleep did not come so easily now.

When the flag of surrender was raised in the Lannister camp, the fighting was still slow to end. More than an hour passed until the swords were lowered and the living began to separate the dead from the wounded and dying. Arthur recalled men who were so close to death that they begged for mercy. Many of the older, uninjured men obliged the dying by plunging swift daggers into their hearts.

When darkness had fallen with stars sparkling overhead and campfires flickering in the fields, Arthur found a tent to share with some Tyrell bannermen. He was uncertain that anyone slept that night. The cries of agony and the stench coming from the battlefield made resting unbearable.

In the morning he had made his way to the banners of his House. Upon arriving, he had seen Edric and Beric seated beside a cooking fire. He slid from his horse and stared at his uncle and cousin, frozen. Edric had been the first to stand. He had rushed to embrace Arthur and had been swiftly joined by Beric.

That they were alive and unharmed seemed a dream come true. They wept in one another’s arms, supporting each other. He praised the gods that they were alive and uninjured.

Beric had been quick to find food for his sustenance. He tried to eat all that he had been given, but he could scarcely eat without bile rising in his throat. How could he eat when he could still hear the screams of the dying and smell the stench of their rotting flesh? When he was refreshed, they returned to the fields.

He spent most of that day running bread and water throughout the camp. Dead were being stripped of armor and prepped for burial. The high-born dead were readied in boxes by the silent sisters and sent in carts to their homes.

He was anxious to learn where Jon was, but the King's encampment was far from his own and there were duties to perform. Beyond the distribution of water and food was the distribution of clean cloths to bind wounds. Weapons and armor also needed to be collected from the field.

Near evening on the second day, word reached the Dayne-Dondarrion camp with word that Prince Oberyn Martell and his eldest two daughters had been wounded in the fighting. Stories varied over the nature and severity of their injuries. One man would say that the Viper had barely been cut but it had been sustained while he was fighting five men at once. Another man would tell a far different tale, saying that the Prince was not gravely wounded but his wounds had been sustained while he protected his daughters, and that they were badly injured.

By dawn of the third day, most of the field was cleared of bodies, the weapons were gathered, and portions of the army had dispersed. All of the remaining encampment moved toward the river. They were awaiting the official signing of peace between the King and House Lannister.

With no matters in need of his attention on the third day, Arthur went to find his brother. He learned rather quickly that Jon had been severely wounded while protecting the King. Finding his brother, however, would not be an easy task.

He had started shortly after daybreak, going from tent to tent. Some tents were guarded, holding Lannister prisoners. Other tents were relatively unguarded. Some held one or two wounded while others were crowded with twenty or more.

He found Prince Oberyn late in the morning. He was in a tent with the wounded Dornish women. His left arm was wrapped in a sling and he knelt beside a cot. He was dabbing the forehead of the woman in the bed with a damp cloth while he spoke Valyrian. The woman did not stir as he spoke.

Stepping closer, Arthur realized that the woman on the bed was Nymeria. She was ghostly pale. Bandages covered her torso. Her breathing was so slow that her chest scarcely rose or fell.

Moving closer, he realized that the cot on Oberyn’s left held Obara. She too was wounded, her right arm and leg were bandaged. Though her eyes were closed, her hand held onto her sister's.  Nymeria's hand was limp within her sister’s grasp.

How long he stood there, he could not have said. He listened as Oberyn spoke and softly sang in Valyrian. Arthur watched the slow rise and fall of Nymeria's chest. Then it seemed to him as though she breathed out and never breathed in again.

Oberyn stopped speaking a moment later. He dropped the wet cloth, and moved closer. He pressed a kiss to her brow and whispered in her ear. Pulling away, he turned to Obara and gently pried the girls’ hands apart.

"She rests with the gods," he whispered to her.

Obara opened her eyes and turned onto her side so that she could see her sister. She groaned, pained and distressed. She trembled as she fell back onto her cot, her eyes closed tightly so that no tears could escape.

A few minutes later, a maester arrived. He checked Nymeria first. When he was assured that she was dead, he offered his condolences to Oberyn. The Dornish Prince made no reply, he simply held one of Obara’s hands between his own.

The maester next checked Obara. When he was done checking her wounds, he spooned milk of the poppy into her mouth. She drank the medicine eagerly, and minutes later drifted asleep. When she was asleep, Oberyn kissed her hand and then her forehead.

Arthur stood, still and frozen. He stared at the unmoving form of Nymeria Sand. He had not often spoken with her, but she had always been kind. She always laughed, he recalled. Nymeria, Tyene, and Princess Arianne would spend hours seated closely together, whispering and giggling. How could it be that she would not laugh again? Why did this death feel different from the countless deaths he had seen or caused only a few days prior?

Oberyn stood when the silent sisters arrived. He stooped down to press final kisses to his daughter’s face before she was moved to a stretcher. It was only then that Oberyn saw him standing there; his tired eyes showed no surprise.

Arthur knew that he should say something, offer some word of condolence, but he was unable to speak. It was Oberyn who spoke, embracing him and kissing his cheek in greeting.

“It is good to know you are well,” Oberyn rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I suspect you are searching for your brother. Come with me.” He led Arthur from the tent, his movements slow and weary. They could still see the silent sisters as they walked away with Nymeria’s body.

The tent where Jon was housed was merely three away from the one they left. There were five beds in the tent, each occupied by an unconscious man. There were men and women who walked between the beds, cleaning wounds and dripping liquid into the mouths of the wounded with cloths.

Oberyn left Arthur beside Jon, and departed without a word. He knelt beside the bed, upon a bearskin which lined the ground under his cot. He was pale, though not so bloodless as Nymeria had been.

His head was bandaged, as was his shoulder and side. He grabbed Jon's hand and squeezed. There was no response, but his hand felt warm. Were it not for the bandages, he could have sworn that Jon was merely asleep.

"He's a handsome one," one of the girls said as she approached. Arthur looked up at her. Her hair was raven black and her eyes as blue as the summer sky.

"Who are you?"

"Bella, I'm from the town. Most of us came when the battle ended. So now I'm here, feeding the wounded.” She moved closer, shifting the kettle she carried to her hip. “They say this one saved the king, pushed him away from a rider who was charging toward them."

Consumed with thoughts of his brother now, he only wanted to know about Jon. "Will he wake up?"

"Don't know, the maester can tell you more when he comes back around." She paused, eyeing him carefully. "Is he your kin?"

"My brother."

She frowned sympathetically. "Gods go with you then. If I have brothers, I'm certain I would worry for them as well."

"If you have them?"

"My mother always said I’m old King Robert's girl, conceived during the Battle of the Bells. That's why I'm named Bella. They say the old queen’s kids aren't his, but he had me so there might be others out there." Quite suddenly, she set the kettle down and knelt. As she knelt, she murmured, "Your grace."

Arthur turned slightly, and upon seeing the King, bowed as well.

King Renly Baratheon seemed uncharacteristically stoic, but he still smiled kindly when he saw Arthur. "Arthur Sand,” he greeted, “it is good to see you alive and well. I owe your brother my life."

He had a difficult time finding his voice. He needed Jon to wake up. "Father and mother would be proud of him." Belatedly he added, "Your grace."

The King agreed with Arthur. “I am certain that they will be when they learn of his bravery.” He paused, lost in his thoughts. "I had hoped..." He looked down at Jon. "The maesters told me that if he wakes that he should recover. I hoped he might be awake."

Arthur felt some of the tension leave him at the news the king spoke. "He would be glad to know that you thought to visit him."

The king forced a grim smile. "He saved my life. Let us hope that he awakens so that I can thank him."

"I hope for nothing else, your grace."

The king agreed with a distracted nod of the head. "In two hours the formal truce will be signed between myself and the Lords of the West. You should witness it in your brother's stead, on behalf of your father."

"It would be an honor."

“Good, then I shall see you there.” The King took a few moments to check on the other wounded men in the tent before he departed.

Bella stood and lifted the kettle once Renly left. Arthur looked at her again, realizing that her tale of being King Robert’s bastard was probably true. She resembled both Robert and Renly Baratheon. She smiled softly as she set the kettle on a table beside Jon.

"Do you want to help me feed him?"

"Yes, yes of course." He moved where she told him, sitting by his brother's head. He held Jon's head as she placed a damp cloth between his lips and then proceeded to spoon a reddish liquid from the kettle onto the cloth. He watched, amazed and relieved, as Jon's throat moved to swallow the liquid.

"If he can swallow, why won't he wake?"

"The maesters said it’s a reflex, like blinking or yawning. If he can swallow enough he should be alright."

"What is it? The liquid?"

"Beets and some other stuff, helps the blood and keeps away fever."

Arthur chuckled at that.

"What's funny?"

"Jon hates beets."

That earned a laugh from her. She had a lovely laugh. "Well if he pulls through he may learn to like them."

He grinned a little at that. "Maybe he will. Thank you, for helping him."

"You’re welcome, though I will admit that my assistance is not entirely charity."

"Oh?"

"Men came from the king asking for help, so I came. When my mother fell ill last year I tended to her. The maester showed me what to do then, much like now. Plus there's some coin in being here."

"What do you do in town?"

"I'm a whore." Startled at her bluntness, he nearly dropped Jon. "Careful now, don't jostle him."

"I’m sorry. You just don't seem old enough for that. If you were conceived at the Battle of the Bells then you can't be more than fifteen."

"Aye that I am. How old are the two of you?"

"I'm fourteen, Jon is fifteen."

"Same age then. If you're old enough to fight in war, killing and dying. I'm old enough to lie abed while a man finds his pleasure."

Whatever he would have said in response was interrupted by Jon suddenly coughing. They swiftly pulled away the cloth and turned him to the side so that he might not choke if he had breathed in any liquid.

"Careful," she commanded. "Try not to jostle him or his stitches will break."

Arthur complied, turning his brother carefully while saying his name. If Jon died... He shuddered at the thought. When Jon ceased coughing, they turned him onto his back again.

She gave a wan smile as she laid the cloth on the table and returned the spoon to the kettle. “That may be enough for now. Don’t want to drown him.”

He nodded numbly in agreement.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Don’t worry. No matter what happens, it will get better.”

He forced a weak smile. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Aye, I do. I should tend to more of the wounded now. I’ll come back soon, see if he will take more liquid.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, glancing briefly up at her before returning to his quiet vigil beside Jon.

*****A*****

When the time came, Arthur left his brother’s side and walked across the field to where the King’s meeting tent was staged. He was not alone in the trek across the plain to the massive tent. Many were the lords and knights who were invited to witness the formal declaration of peace between the King and House Lannister.

Inside, Arthur found his place at the base of the platform where King Renly and Lord Kevan Lannister were already seated. Filling the tent were lords and knights of more than a dozen Houses. Knights of the King’s Guard were standing around the platform. Also at the table, seated beside Ser Kevan, was a very small man whose form was distasteful to look upon, Tyrion Lannister was his name.

Oberyn, Edric, and Beric all stood beside Arthur, all representatives of their Houses. Arthur's duty was to stand for House Stark. Overall, Arthur was too distracted with worry over Jon to pay much attention to the proceedings. Neither did it seem that Oberyn was focused upon the goings on. Pale, drawn, and listless, the Viper of Dorne appeared to be as far away as the Wall.

Arthur learned rather quickly that Lord Tywin Lannister had died during the battle. His younger brother Kevan and his son Tyrion were representatives for their House. The terms were heavily weighted in the crown's favor. Lord Tyrion, now lawfully the head of House Lannister, would be taken to King's Landing while Kevan held the West as regent. Wardenship of the West would pass to Lord Mace Tyrell, the new Warden of the South would be Prince Doran Martell, Lord Stark would remain Warden of the North, and the Warden of the East would be decided at a time of the King's choosing.

All debts owed by the crown to House Lannister were now void due to the treason of Lord Tywin. That particular announcement earned muttering throughout the crowd. After all matters of moneys and lands were settled, the matters of prisoners were resolved.

Lesser prisoners of House Lannister who were held by the crown were to be released one every two years based upon the loyalty they displayed to the crown. The children of Cersei Lannister would be treated as his grace decided. Joffrey was to be sent to the Wall. Tommen and Myrcella, should they grow into loyal subjects, would be married to noble born bastards as befitting their stations in life.

Cersei and Jaime Lannister were both sentenced to death for treason. Cersei would be executed upon the King's return to the capital. Ser Jaime's execution would take place whenever he was found. Arthur perked up at that bit of news. It seemed that the Kingslayer was missing. He had not been reported in the Riverlands nor was he at the battle they had just fought. He was simply gone. The king decreed that anyone who aided the Kingslayer would meet the executioner's blade as well.

Eventually the words were ended, the documents signed, and the people dismissed. Arthur then returned to Jon with Edric and Beric accompanying him.

There had been no change in his brother's condition. Jon slept without waking as his wounds were tended. Lord Beric eventually forced Arthur to depart for their own tents late in the evening so that they might eat and rest.

In the morning, many of the armies broke camp. Lannisters turned west, some Tyrell men went south while others journeyed east to the capital. Some of the Dornish moved similarly to the Tyrells; to home for some and to King’s Landing for others. The King also began his journey back to King's Landing. He parted with kind words to Arthur regarding Jon and extended his welcome to the boys when Jon was healed enough for travel.

Many had remained from all Houses to tend to their wounded. Some of the injured were well enough to be taken back to their homes while others, like Jon, were far too weak to be moved.

The Dondarrion, Dayne, and Martell men had all remained behind. Prince Oberyn would not leave until Obara either recovered or died. Everyone prayed for her recovery, for Dorne did not want to know the Red Viper if he should lose two daughters. The Dornish breathed sighs of relief when Obara Sand was finally able to walk from her tent with little difficulty.

On the second day after the King’s departure, Arthur was seated in his usual place beside Jon. Jon had been moved to a new tent with different wounded as the injured had mostly recovered enough to be moved or had worsened and died. A few, like Jon, showed improvement but had yet to awaken.

“You forgot to eat again,” Bella said as she placed a chunk of bread on Arthur’s lap. “How will it be when Jon awakes and finds you have wasted away beside his bed?”

He picked at the bread, nibbling on some of it to satisfy her. He had no appetite. “How can you be so certain he will awake?”

She propped Jon’s head and began to spoon beef broth into his mouth. “Because I haven’t seen his eyes yet and I want to know if they are as pretty as yours.”

He smiled. “A good reason.” He watched as she fed Jon. His brother seemed to be swallowing more easily as the days passed. “I wish he would wake.”

“Perchance he likes his dreaming too much to awaken? I’ve known men who could sleep for a whole day.”

“It’s been nearly a week.”

She frowned, dropping her normally cheerful demeanor. “I know. My mother slept for four days before she died. The flux took fifteen in town that time. The maester seems to have hope for your brother though and his hurts aren’t the same as the flux. Besides, I don’t think the gods are done with him yet.”

 He couldn’t think of anything to say in reply, so he sat chewing on his bread while she fed Jon. When she was finished, he looked up at her, curious. “Why haven’t you returned to town yet? Most of your people have gone back.”

“Some of us from the Peach have remained behind, better coin among the soldiers than in the town right now.”

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He had forgotten that she was a whore. “Do you want to... to... well do you want to always be what you are? Don’t you want to do something else?”

She giggled. “You are ever so polite, more than most bastards I’ve met. Though you are the son of a great lord and a lady. You were raised to be in good company to bow and say ‘yes my lord’ to all your betters. I’m just the daughter of a whore, what else would I do?”

He pursed his lips, unsure how to answer her at first. “You could come with me.”

“Ah and would I be your lady then?” She laughed.

“What? No,” he stumbled on the words, his face aflame. “It’s just that you’re too smart and kind to spend your days as a...”

“Whore,” she finished for him. “You are rather uncomfortable with that word.”

He looked down at his feet. “People whisper it enough about my mother... It doesn’t feel right to ever call someone a whore, even if they make money with sex.”

They were both very quiet for a while. Arthur looked up to see Jon’s face but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What would I do if I went with you?”

He looked up, meeting her eyes. She was pensive.

“I don’t know. You could be a handmaiden in my family’s household. You could serve my mother or sister or anyone really.”

“And if your family rejects me, what then? Shall I be a beggar in a strange city, far from all I know?”

“They wouldn’t turn you out. Anyway, even if they did, I won the archery contest at the tourney for my father. I have more gold from that than I will ever use. I could buy you a place to live.”

She pursed her lips. “I will consider your offer.” Then she flashed him a quick smile and left to tend to the other wounded in the tents.

*****A*****

In the dead of the night Arthur felt someone shaking his arm and whispering his name. At first he felt a chill of terror run down his spine, wondering where his sword was, would he reach it before his enemy struck him? He calmed when he recognized the form and voice of Bella.

“What,” he muttered drowsily.

“Come on, quick, Jon is awake!”

Quick as a breath he was standing and bolting from his tent to see his brother. He did not bother with his cloak or boots, he only wanted to see Jon. The candles were dim in the tent of the wounded, and Arthur needed to slow his pace so that he did not rouse anyone. Finally, he reached his brother’s cot. His eyes were closed, and Arthur briefly wondered if Bella had not truly awoken him at all.

“Jon?” He trembled, kneeling beside his brother’s bed.

Slowly, Jon’s eyes opened and his lips spread into the best smile Arthur had ever seen.

# *****CERSEI

Cersei Lannister had taken to sitting near the windows of her tower cell for endless hours. At times, she slept in that chair, her neck aching when she woke. Other times she read or wrote letters, her gaolers allowed her that much kindness at least. She ate small quantities of food when it was brought, though she had no true appetite for food or drink anymore. In truth, she was merely awaiting the day when Renly Baratheon would take off her head.

Even still, she drew some small pleasure from the days they allowed her to visit with her children. Rather infrequently she would be led to a sitting room where she could speak with them, one at a time. She would ask after their health and well-being and they would answer her. Joffrey was unhappy with his treatment, and always demanded to know why he was a prisoner. She would merely tell him that his throne had been usurped. Tommen would cry, saying that he missed her and Myrcella. She would tell him to be brave. Myrcella would not cry. She would tell Cersei as much as she knew, including the time she had stood in the throne room before the soldiers left. To her daughter she would say her to remain strong, no matter what happened.

However, more days than not, Cersei was alone in her tower chamber. There she sat, staring at the walls, awaiting an execution which had yet to be ordered. Her father could not save her, or he no longer cared. Her actions were too disgraceful in his sight. Perhaps he was no longer even considered her to be his daughter.

Jaime failed her. He should have saved her. He should have struck down all who kept them apart. He should have come to save their children. Their beautiful babes. Their princes and princess.

Late in the evening a knock sounded at her door. Why should she bother responding? They would open the door whether she willed it or not.

Another knock, urgent and insistent. It was too late in the evening for food.

She heard the keys rattling at the door. She wondered idly if Lord Stark had deigned to visit her. So late? Or perhaps that rat whom she had once trusted, Littlefinger. The latter was unlikely as the only time he had visited during her imprisonment she had scratched open his face. It was less than he deserved for betraying her.

She turned to the door, waiting to see whomever would enter. It could be a servant who had been ordered to clean the room or bathe her. One of the girls always smirked whenever she entered, so eager to see her former queen in captivity. Cersei wished that she had ordered the girl whipped before Robert's death.

The door opened slowly, far slower than was usual. The man holding the keys shuffled inside, followed by a man who wore a black cloak with a raised hood. A chill ran down her spine. Would they kill her now? With no warning?

"What are you do...," she demanded, but her words were stopped by a strangled cry when she saw the hooded man’s face. For when he had pushed inside and closed the door, he had lowered the hood of his cloak. She trembled as he stood there, his golden hair shining in the candlelight. Jaime, her Jaime, had come to save her.

"Hurry," he commanded. "Dress quickly and plainly. We must move fast, before the guards find us."

She stared, dumbfounded. "How did you get here?"

Impatient, he spat his words in haste. "I have friends and I know a few hidden ways through the castle. Dress! Now!"

She stood then, still in shock. The dress she wore was simple enough, dark green and brown. She pulled stockings from a dresser and slid them on, tying the laces above her knees. Then she found old riding boots in the back of the one wardrobe and slid them on, lacing them urgently and tying them with haste. She grabbed a ribbon from the dresser and tied her hair back. Last of all she grabbed a brown cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Where are the children," Jaime commanded of the guard.

"Children?" He feigned ignorance. Then he yelped as Jaime pushed forward with his right arm, driving the tip of his sword against the man's skin.

“Come now, Allon,” Jaime hissed in the man’s ear. “Our deal was your life if you cooperate with me.”

"I can take you to them," he amended.

"Good man," Jaime replied with a grin.

They left the room, shutting and locking the door behind them. It was dark in the corridors, as the torches were sparsely placed in the tower. She noticed the slumped over forms of two men who had been her guards near the entrance to her hall. Their throats had been slashed from behind.

Everything seemed surreal, as though she were walking in a dream. They walked down three levels and then down a long corridor, passing into a different part of the castle complex. Even with her hood covering her hair, she was petrified that they would be caught. They paused at the end of the hall, seeing two guards beside a door.

Jaime hid his sword beneath his cloak, pushing their prisoner forward a few steps.

"Who are you and what business do you have here," the one demanded.

"I'm here to see the prisoners," Jaime replied with ice in his tone.

"Jaime Lannister?" The other spoke up in shock.

Jaime charged forward, pushing their hostage to the ground and stabbing the second man in the chest. Jaime then spun to hit the other guard first in the arm and then in the neck as the man was attempting to draw his own sword.

When the guards were dead, he turned and beckoned for Cersei and Allon to come closer. Then he knelt, pulling a ring of keys from the belt of one of the dead guards. "Which doors," he hissed urgently. The Allon showed them two doors near the end of the corridor which Jaime opened after fumbling with the keys and locks for a few minutes. Cersei entered the chambers while Jaime kept watch over their prisoner and the halls. In one chamber she found Joffrey while the other held Tommen. She ordered both of them to be silent and to dress swiftly. Though shocked, they dressed rapidly as she had done. She assisted Tommen with his clothes and shoes, as he was still not awake enough to process what was happening.

"Where is Myrcella?" She asked as they stood in the hall, anxious to flee.

"She's in," the guard began to say, but he stopped when bells began to ring and shouts echoed throughout the castle.

"They have probably found some of the dead guards, we need to go," Jaime said, worry tinging his voice.

"Not without Myrcella!" She needed her children with her, and safe.

"Maidenvault," the man said.

Jaime shook his head, hopeless. "We'll never make it."

She clutched his arm. "Jaime we can't leave her!"

"Cella," Tommen whimpered.

"Stop crying," Joffrey hissed.

"But we can't," Tommen's pleas were cut off by Cersei.

"Stop, both of you!"

"We need to escape now or we will all be killed." The resolve in Jaime's face was absolute. "They won't kill a young girl."

Panic welled within her. "How can you say that! You saw the Targaryen children. She cannot be left here!"

He hesitated a moment before nodding crisply. "We need to get you out of here first." She tried to protest, but he spoke over her. "Or we will _all_ die."

He pushed Allon ahead of them with his sword. Cersei pushed her sons ahead of her, having picked up swords from the dead guards for her boys. Tommen's was merely a dagger, which he was barely holding through his tears. She carried one as well, as though her life depended upon it. Joffrey held a short sword, clumsy in his grip but it would work if needed.

They walked down six floors and exited the tower through one of the servant's doors. They stood between the dungeons and the White Sword Tower, close to Maegor’s Holdfast.  The courtyard was quickly filling with guards. The entire barracks of Gold Cloaks was between them and Myrcella. The bells were still ringing, breaking the peace of the night. Slivers of moonlight lighted the castle grounds, breaking through the scraps of clouds which hung in the sky.

"Go straight along the wall of the keep, past the rookery, until you reach the godswood," Jaime whispered. "When you reach the postern."

“The postern? That will only lead deeper in to the castle, not to the city.”

"Listen to me! There will be an alcove in the wall after you have walked twenty feet. The door should be open, but if not, there is a black lever in the dragon statue. Pull it and you will open a door. It will take you to stairs that lead down to the Blackwater. Some of our cousins will be at the bottom, wait for me there."

He pulled her close, briefly pressing their lips together, before he pushed her away. "Go, now. Walk quickly but do not run unless it is necessary. You do not want to draw attention to yourselves."

She made no reply other than to push her sons ahead of her and walk in the shadow of the wall. She glanced behind her once, seeing Jaime slit the throat of their prisoner before he disappeared into the shadows. Running was tempting. To race across the courtyard and flee to safety.

Terror and exhilaration flooded her veins at the same time. How could this be real? Jaime had come to save her.

She pressed close to the wall, keeping Tommen in front of her and Joffrey behind. Every breath seemed like a scream in the night. Would they be seen? Would they be killed?

Terror welled within her, but still she pressed her son forward. She turned her head back every few steps to ensure that they were not being followed. They were passing the rookery, nearly at the statue, when the sounds of shouts and heavy footsteps came closer.

Turning, she Jaime running their way. He was being chased by five gold cloaks. In terror she broke into a run, pulling her sons with her, one in each hand. There was no door at the statue. She ran her hands along the dark dragon, cutting her fingers but finding no way out.

"Jaime!" She screamed.

At the sound of her screams, more guards began to run their direction. Tommen slumped to the ground, sobbing. Joffrey stood, clutching his sword with no skill. At last, Jaime reached them, panting and caked in blood. He pulled at the statue and sure enough the stones of the wall slid the side, just wide enough to allow passage. He lifted Tommen, hoisting him above his shoulder.

"Where's Myrcella!" Cersei shrieked.

"Go!" He shouted, forcing her and Joffrey through the opening. He followed, pushing all four of them along. On the other side, he pulled a second lever, closing the entrance.

They were enveloped in black when the passage closed. The only sounds to be heard were the waves of the bay crashing far below, and the cries of Tommen.

Cersei rounded on her brother. "You have to get her!"

"How shall I do that,” he spat. “The guard will be increased the moment they know you are gone. We need to leave."

"How can you say that!” Angry tears brimmed in her eyes. “She's your daughter!"

"It's true?" She nearly didn't hear Joffrey's shocked statement. "How could you do this to me?"

She slapped her eldest son. "To you? Open your eyes. Robert Baratheon was not worthy of a Lannister. He was a weak fool who met his end soaking with wine. Jaime is the one who saved us. He was the only man worthy of fathering my children."

Her eldest son's face twisted in revulsion while her youngest child still sobbed. "Stop crying," she commanded. "Tears will get you nothing.” She turned to Jaime. “Have you led us to our deaths or is there a way down?"

"There is a way," Jaime replied through gritted teeth. He changed his tone as he spoke to Tommen. "Shhh, hush now. You need to be calm to make it down the mountain."

He gulped air and muttered his reply. "Buh...but what about Cella?"

It was Cersei who answered, hoping that some god did exist who would make her words true. "Lord Stark promised her to his son in marriage. He will protect her."

Jaime forced a small smile to his lips. "Your heard your mother, Lord Stark shall be the one to blame if harm befalls your sister. They shall not move against her knowing that we are free."

When his shuddering stopped, Jaime slid the boy to the ground. Jamie walked ahead, staying close to the right of the wall. After a few moments, he turned to face them.

"Follow me. Carefully as the stones are slick and the path is difficult to see."

She pushed Tommen ahead, then forced Joffrey to follow. She followed behind the three.

The path was impossible to see, but they followed nonetheless. She kept one hand on the rocks to her right at all times, fearing the steep drop off to her left. An eternity passed as they made their way down the steep paths which ran beside the castle.

Cersei lost her footing more times than she could count, her children fared just as poorly. Jaime seemed to be finding his footing more easily, through he frequently stopped to find the path or to help their sons.

For the first time since she was a girl kneeling beside her dead mother, Cersei found herself pleading with the gods. She prayed not to die. She prayed for her daughter. She swore that she would kill Ned Stark herself if any harm should befall Myrcella.

At last they made it to the bottom of the cliff. "Wait here," Jaime told them. That command was easy to follow with how exhausting the climb had been. She seated herself upon a boulder. Tommen sat below her, resting his head upon her knees. Joffrey sat apart from them, his body rigid.

Jaime walked along the rocky shore of the bay, after a few minutes he was out of sight. There were no sounds other than the waves against the rocks.

Eventually, Jaime reappeared, accompanied by two men. She stood, rousing her sons, both of whom had drifted asleep. They walked to them men, and as they neared one another, she recognized them as her cousins Lyonel and Tion Frey, Aunt Genna’s sons.

"This way," said Jaime. "They have a rowboat for us."

"Was it just the three of you who came?"

Jaime was quick to inform her of the details of the rescue. "There are six of us. Tywin Frey remains with the rowboat while Owen and Rolland Lannister remain on the larger boat. We will not be able to sail through the bay as there is a blockade."

"Blockade?"

"To prevent Stannis Baratheon from gaining support or attempting to attack King's Landing. Getting into the castle was only so easy because the bulk of the army went to face our father."

"I am surprised that you weren't with him."

"Tyrion was with him. He wanted me in the Riverlands as a distraction, so I went, but then I left to free you."

"Where will we go?"

"Casterly Rock."

"Will we be safe there? If father loses the battle..."

He hesitated, then he held her hand before quietly responding. "Father already lost."

"What?" He had to be wrong, father could not lose.

He shook his head. "Cersei, he's dead. The news broke in the city today. That's why we decided to rescue you tonight. Uncle Kevan is in charge of the Rock now, he can protect us."

She knew he was wrong. If their father was dead, no one could protect them. "Not if he can trade us for Lancel."

"Then we take a ship from Gulltown to the Free Cities."

"And leave our daughter behind?"

"If that is what we must do, yes."

She glared at him in the dark, but followed after him in silence. Tion picked up Tommen who was too tired walk any further. Joffrey trudged along behind them, sulking.

At last they reached the rowboat. They entered the boat, one by one, exhausted and weary. Then Lyonel and Tywin pushed the boat away from land. Once aboard, they rowed hard against the waves. The bay was relatively calm once they reached the deeper waters. King's Landing grew smaller, glowing faintly in the night.

With only one darkened lantern aboard, the night seemed to embrace them. Tommen drifted asleep against her. After a while even Joffrey began to rest his head on her shoulder. Cersei herself nearly drifted asleep by the time they rowed alongside one of the black fishing boats which were anchored in the bay.  Tion whistled out to the boat. Moments later, lanterns were lit aboard the ship, and the whistle was echoed. A rope ladder was lowered, which Jaime was the first to climb. She roused her children. Joffrey went up the ladder next; then Tommen. Cersei followed, then Lyonel. Owen Lannister threw down a rope to Tion and Tywin, who secured it to the rowboat. Then they climbed aboard, together the men raised the rowboat onto the fishing boat.

Jaime held her arm, gentle but firm. "Go with our sons to the cabin. I will join you soon."

She nodded and guided her sons to where Jaime had pointed. The cabin was small and cramped, but it was freedom. If only Myrcella... She could not bear to think upon her daughter.

Water was in the room, which she and her sons drank greedily. Afterward, each of the boys crawled into hammocks to sleep, while she sat upon the bed, waiting. Some time later Jaime entered the cabin. He sat beside her and kissed her brow.

"If I could have saved our daughter I would have,” he whispered as he encircled her with his arms. “Perhaps I will get that chance one day, but for now we must flee to safety."

Does safety exist? She pulled back slightly from him so that they might look at one another. "Where will that be?"

He did not seem happy with the answer he gave. "Essos. Our cousins do not desire the threat that protecting us would bring, doubtless our uncle would agree. We will make port at Duskendale and from there ride to Maidenpool. From Maidenpool we will take the first ship available to Essos. We have more than enough gold."

"And we shall abandon our daughter here."

He caressed her cheek, soothing her. "You said that Stark would protect her, do you truly believe that?"

Did she? She was almost certain that he would protect any child. "He said he would. He told me as much on the day he confronted me about our children."

"Then we must rest our hope in him.” He seemed distant for a moment, considering something. “You didn't see him when the Targaryen children were murdered. He wouldn't allow such a thing again."

"Allow... but we do not know how much sway he truly has over Renly Baratheon."

"Perhaps he has enough, for now we should fear our cousin's more."

"They would do us no harm." Yet as she said the words, she knew she did not trust them.

"Are you so sure? Father is dead. Kevan is regent of the West. Aunt Genna or Uncle Harrold’s sons may sell us out, but they are all we have for now." He kissed cheek. "We must protect one another and our sons."

She nodded her head idly before burying her face against Jaime’s chest to weep.


	17. The King Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! Thank you for your lovely comments, and for following. I'm sorry for the delay (yet again) life has been super busy with both good and bad things. I also had a few weeks of writer's block on top of that! But here it is!
> 
> Thank you for your patience, your comments, and for those of you who have been messaging me lately for more! Thanks to Spiff's Oliphaunt for all your help!

King's Landing was searched high and low for any sign of Cersei Lannister and her children. Lord Eddard Stark tasked Lords Varys and Baelish with finding leads from their informants.  Though the city gates had been closely guarded since King Robert’s death, none of the city watch reported anyone suspicious entering or leaving the city. So, Ned tasked the captains of the guard to search within their ranks for any who might have helped Jaime Lannister enter the castle or assisted in his escape with Cersei, Joffrey, and Tommen.

Within the week, some of Ned's own men had arrived, sent from Robb. Ned sent some of them along the coast to the north and south of the city in search of the Lannisters. He also retained a portion of them within the city so that his own numbers were increased.

It was no easy trial to write to the King regarding the loss of their prisoners. Ned took the failure personally. He had failed Robert, leading to the death of his oldest friend. Now he had failed Robert’s youngest brother by losing their most valuable prisoners. Even so, Ned wrote a detailed letter regarding all that had transpired since the King's departure. He sent the letter by courier, a small party of five men, so that it would arrive swiftly to the King's hand. He hoped that Renly’s victory over Lord Tywin would ease some of his probable wrath regarding the loss of three of their prisoners.

Before the King arrived, within a week of Cersei's disappearance, Ned visited young Myrcella in the chambers which were her prison.

Ned hesitated at the door of the tower. He had no desire to break a child’s heart, but duty brought him to this place. Still, he knocked on the door and announced his presence. When the attendant inside replied, he unlocked the door and entered.

Young Myrcella Hill sat upon a chair. Her delicate curls hung loose around her neck and her plain white dress only accentuated her youth. He remembered to himself that she was of age with Arya.

“Hello Myrcella,” he greeted warmly. “How have you been treated since last we spoke?”

“I have been treated kindly, Lord Stark. I thank you for your concern. Why have I not seen Tommen or my mother for so many days?”

He seated himself facing her and asked her handmaiden to wait in the adjacent room. “I have come to speak with you about them.”

Her eyes widened, afraid.

He wished that he could allay her fears, but knew that he needed to tell her everything. He breathed deeply when they were alone, ready to tell her the truth. “Several days ago your uncle, Ser Jaime, with the aid of several men entered the castle grounds. He was able to locate your mother and brothers. They escaped and are being sought after.”

He paused, hating to her lips tremble and the tears welling in her eyes.

“Should they be found, the king has ordered the execution of your parents.”

She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes as the tears slid down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she eventually murmured, looking up at him. “Lord Stark, thank you for telling me what you know.”

He laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Would that I did not have to give you such dark tidings. There is more. Your grandfather, Lord Tywin was slain in battle. Your uncle Tyrion will be brought here as a prisoner while your grandfather's brother holds the West.”

She bowed her head solemn and silent.

He looked upon her with pity, knowing that she would not be happy for a long time. “Is there anything that you want sent to you, or anyone?”

She forced a trembling smile. “Anise, my nursemaid, can she be sent to me?”

He regarded her kindly. “I will send her to you. If there is anything you need, at any time, send for me.”

She nodded her head vigorously. “I will, my lord.”

He stood, readying himself to leave. “I bid you a good day, my lady.”

He walked away from her, leaving her to tremble in her cushioned chair. He could hear her begin to weep as he shut the door.

He returned to his rooms that day to letters from Catelyn, Robb, Bran, and Maester Luwin. He read each one in turn, planning his replies even as he read the words to each letter.

Bran, writing from Winterfell with the addendums from Maester Luwin, confided that all was well in the North. Bran said that he missed everyone terribly and informed that Rickon was a terror to all without his parents. He also wrote of a boy named Samwell, or Sam, who had been sent from Benjen. He was rather vague on details regarding that matter. Benjen had written nothing of the matter, or any matter of late, beyond the need of the Watch for more men. Ned replied commending Bran on his dutiful reporting of the affairs of the North.

Robb vaguely wrote of Sam again, though he added that he would rather speak of it in person. The only details he provided were that the young man had been sent to the Wall by his father but Benjen feared for the boy's well-being and sent him to Winterfell. Beyond that, Robb had written of the battle he had fought. He wrote of Torrhen Karstark’s death and informed Ned that the Karstarks and Umbers were sent to King's Landing. In reply, Ned praised his son for his wisdom and bravery in commanding the armies and said that the men had been of great use.

Catelyn's letter was more detailed in all regards than the letters their sons had sent. She explained much that had transpired after her brief visit to King's Landing. She spoke of her meeting with Tyrion Lannister and of his trial in the Vale. She spoke briefly of the battle in the Riverlands and of her father's failing health. He replied to her shortly and quickly, asking that she and Robb come with haste to King's Landing. He also sent orders regarding where his various lords should report now that some hostilities were seemingly at an end. He would be glad for the arrival of his wife and eldest son. He longed to see them again. He wanted little more than to hold Cat in his arms.

Shortly before King Renly arrived, after all leads on the location of Lord Tywin’s twins dried up, Ned received a short missive from Lord Beric Dondarrion stating that Arthur was well and that Jon was mending from the wounds which he had received during the battle. They would be traveling to King’s Landing at a relatively slow rate, to accommodate the wounded. Ned thanked the gods that the boys were alive and well.

The King returned to the city with fanfare and cheering in the streets. The streets were lined with citizens shouting praises for the king’s victory. “King Renly!” “Victory!” “Down with the Lannisters!” “Long live the king!” The people threw flowers along the king’s path, welcoming him home. The inhabitants of the Red Keep were just as welcoming, cheering praises to their victorious king.

Once he was settled, Renly was quick to call his councilors together so that they might brief him on current events. One by one they filled him in on the state of the realm, including the lack of leads on the whereabouts of the Lannister twins. When their briefing was finished, the king dismissed them all for the evening.

Late in the morning the following day, Ned met privately with Renly in the King’s Study. When Ned arrived, he saw the young man whom he had helped name king seated behind a large carved desk. Various missives were strewn haphazardly upon the surface. Renly looked up at Ned and smiled tiredly.

“I can see why my brother preferred to avoid matters of state,” the king began. “Though after my own taste of war I do not understand why he preferred war to politics. I think that I would rather pour through hours of tedious debate than to strike a man dead upon a sword.”

Ned’s smile was wan. “Robert was always happier when busy with his hands rather than his mind.”

Renly laughed lightly in response. “That is very true. I wonder at times how it is that the gods made three brothers who are so different one from the other. Though I suppose one could say we three are all unbending in nature.”

“One could make that argument, your grace.”

He laughed again, brief and good-natured, while he asked Ned to be seated. “My brother Stannis has yet to submit. I fail to see what he hopes to gain. He has no allies. Your wife's sister has finally pledged the loyalty of the Vale. Aside from my brother, only Balon Greyjoy has not declared for me.”

“We received no replies from Lord Balon during your absence. Perhaps when his son Theon arrives with my wife and heir he may be of use in that matter.”

“Perhaps he may. I thank you for that suggestion.” Renly stood and paced to the window of the chamber, looking across the city which was covered in a rainy haze. “I do not know what to do about Stannis. Nothing will placate him, to be sure. Yet can I move against him? My niece is my only legal heir, and I have no desire to harm her. Nor would it be wise for me to kill my only family. The realms may bend to me now but I am no fool, if I show weakness they will strike me down.”

“You could treat with Lord Stannis, your grace,” Ned suggested, pensive. “Offer him Storm's End, his birthright.” The man was unbending, but could he be swayed to peace?

“A reasonable suggestion, though my brother is not known for his reason, merely his resolute nature. I shall consider what you have said.” Renly returned to his seat. “The loss of Ser Jaime and Lady Cersei is troubling as well, though I should have expected no less from him. I do not anticipate much issue from Lord Kevan, not while I hold his firstborn and so many others in his family.”

“I regret that my people have not been able to find them,” Ned offered.

Renly waved away the issue. “I doubt they remained in Westeros long, though I shall offer a reward for their capture and return. For the time being I am content to keep our hostages well treated. I have even sent Lord Tyrion to visit Myrcella.”

“Does your grace think that wise?”

“Wiser than forbidding it. I have no ill will toward Myrcella or Tommen, had Joffrey been less petulant I would have no ill will toward him either. For a time they were my brother's children in my eyes. Now that I have so many Lannisters in my keeping I will show them kindness so that I may win the West. I do not trust Tyrion, he is clever, shrewd, and assuredly holds grudges. He is watched carefully but the kinder he is treated the more malleable he shall become. They and Lancel are my keys to the West, Lord Stark. The other hostages are scarcely worth the cost to feed them, but they are Lannisters, and our peace treaty stands.” The King smirked. “I want every report they write to Casterly Rock to sing my praises so that in time peace will hold sure.”

“That is very prudent, your grace.”

“I am glad to hear your agreement,” he said with a smile. Then his countenance darkened. “Your son Jon saved my life. He threw me out of the path of a charging spearman on horseback. He took the spear in his side and hit his head against the ground, but he lived. What have I ever done to deserve such devotion? Robert could inspire that when he was younger. Even Stannis could sway men to hold Storm's End longer than any reasonable man would. But me? I have done nothing to gain the love of the people. Dorne chose me to avenge Elia. Highgarden chose me for the sake of Loras and their own ambitions. You chose me as the most expedient choice, as I am certain Lord Tully did. But Jon… All I did was give him a position in my guard and he risked his life to save me.”

“Valor inspires loyalty, your grace. Lead the people well and they will stay true. I am gladdened to hear that my son acted valiantly your behalf and that he survived.” Ned shook his head, in fear and wonder. “Would that I could take some credit for Jon’s merits, but he is of Dorne. His mother raised him well.”

“To be sure, she deserves much praise for her sons. To Jon himself, I plan to bestow many honors. I will knight him and give him lands and titles. All must see how well I reward acts of fealty.”

Ned bowed his head solemnly. “Thank you, your grace.”

When their meeting was concluded, Ned returned to the Tower of the Hand to attend to the business of the day. Late in the afternoon, Ned walked to the godswood to ruminate. When he arrived, he wished yet again for the white wood and red leaves of a weirwood tree. He longed for home, for family.

Much of his family would arrive soon. Catelyn and Robb would be the first to arrive. With them would come lords of the North and Riverlands. Jon and Arthur would arrive later with the returning Dornish lords. Last of all would come Sansa, Arya, Alysanne, and Lucas with the Princess Arianne Martell and her courtiers. Amongst the courtiers of the Dornish Princess would be Lady Ashara.

That afternoon, he had received letters from Dorne. The joint letter from Sansa and Arya told a very lengthy tale of their journeys in Dorne. They both spoke warmly of the hospitality that had been extended to them by the Ladies of House Dondarrion and by Prince Doran Martell. They both spoke kindly of the Dornish, with Arya’s enthusiasm for the Water Gardens made clear multiple times in the letter. Though they spoke of missing himself and their other family members, both seemed to be enjoying their time along the southern coast.

Ashara’s letter he pondered, remembering the delicate scrawl of her writing.

_Ashara of House Dayne_

_To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King._

_Greetings Lord Stark, I hope this letter finds you in good health._

_I shall be brief with this letter for there is much happening in Dorne at present. We must mourn for Prince Oberyn’s daughter Nymeria. At the same time we must prepare to celebrate the impending marriages of Princess Arianne to King Renly Baratheon and Prince Quentyn to Lady Margaery Tyrell._

_Would that mourning and celebration did not hold hands one with another._

_I know this war and the pains of your household are much for you to bear as well. Being the Hand of the King while at war must also be a troubling endeavour. I hope that your leg is healing well._

_We have just received word from Lord Beric Dondarrion that Jon and Arthur are safe. The terror I feel for the danger they, and my nephew, have faced. To know that Jon could have died… I know that Beric spared me the details of his injuries but I also know when information is being withheld from me._

_Regarding Jon… I had a conversation that went poorly with Alysanne. I shall speak with you on that matter when we are all at King’s Landing. I shall be attending my lady, the Princess Arianne, for a time after she is made Queen of Westeros. I will be arriving with your daughters Arya and Sansa as well as our children, Alysanne and Lucas._

_I shall look forward to seeing you again, Lord Stark. I also believe that your children shall all delight to see you. Until then, may the old gods guide your steps._

Sighing, Ned resigned himself to the future. Would that there was a way to avoid the inevitable discomfort which would come from the presence of Cat and Ashara in King’s Landing. While he was glad that he would soon be reunited with his wife and children, he worried over the situation. He knew that Catelyn would not respond well to Ashara’s presence in the capital.

He found himself dreading her arrival, not desiring the added stress her presence would guarantee. He also feared Ashara’s words regarding Jon. Did Alysanne know the truth? What madness would lead Ashara to tell their daughter about Jon?

While he had no notion of what his children would think of one another, he was happy that he would see all of his children, save Bran and Rickon, at the same time. He wanted to see them, all of them. He did not want to be parted from them again.

Eventually, he pushed himself from the ground with his cane and began to walk back to the Red Keep. They would all be here soon, no matter what he willed. He told himself to hope for the best, though he could not shake his doubts.


	18. Wife and Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is following this story! I finally got a new chapter out in a decent time frame!

Catelyn Stark laid her riding gloves upon the smooth oak dressing table of the chambers which were hers within the Tower of the Hand. The rooms were spacious and well lit. Upon the walls were tapestries, woven with scenes of maidens dancing in sunlit meadows. She smiled tiredly, glad to be at rest again.

She walked to the nearest window, taking in the sight of the castle and city below. How long must they stay within the city? Would Ned wish for her to return to Winterfell? She did not wish to be parted from him again, nor did she desire to leave her youngest children without a parent for many more moons. Nearly a year had passed since Bran had fallen, nay, been thrown from the Broken Tower. She needed to be with him. She wanted to be home, with her husband and their children.

She laughed lightly. When had Winterfell become home? Riverrun had been her home once, but having left there so recently, she knew that Riverrun was no longer home. She did long to return to Riverrun again, on the journey home to Winterfell. She wanted to see her father again before he passed from the world, a time which would too swiftly come.

 With a weary sigh, she turned from the window to face her room. The chambers she had been given were vast and luxurious. The attendants of her household were working busily to move her trunks and Robb’s to their respective rooms. She wished to see Ned, but he had been in meetings since long before her arrival. Ned had sent Lord Umber and his men to escort herself, Robb, and Edmure into the city. While Cat and her brother entered the city, Robb and some of their men were still beyond its walls. Unfortunately, her firstborn son would have to remain outside until the direwolves could be safely housed.

Direwolves, not just Grey Wind, but Arya’s Nymeria roamed the woods just beyond the city. The she-wolf had joined them near Harrenhal. Grey Wind had raced away, into the forests, whilst howling wildly. Robb had followed swiftly on his horse, determined not to lose sight of his wolf. They had both returned an hour later with Arya’s wolf trailing behind. From that moment ‘til now, Robb was responsible for handling both wolves.

Catelyn had faith that Ned would quickly find an arrangement suitable for the care of the wolves, one which would allow their son and heir to be housed properly within the Tower of the Hand. Until such a time, Catelyn could do little but wait. So she set herself to the task of arranging her rooms and refreshing after her long journey.

* * *

Eddard Stark was beginning to wonder if Renly Baratheon simply enjoyed making meetings last longer than was necessary, especially on days when important guests were due to arrive in the city. Perhaps Ned was just anxious to see his wife and son again. Too many moons had waxed and waned since last he had laid eyes upon them. Duty, however, was ever his master.

The midday meal passed by the time Ned was able to secure the king’s permission to house direwolves within the godswood of the Red Keep. He was then able to give orders to his men to construct a temporary fence within the woods for the wolves to remain in when they were not with Robb. Afterward, Ned rode out with Vayon Poole and three more of his men.

The Northmen were encamped just beyond the Gate of the Gods, along the Kingsroad. The encampment was small, only a dozen or so tents, full of men eager to be housed within the city. As soon as the men saw him, they bowed at once and welcomed him heartily. Ned dismounted and welcomed each of his men warmly, glad to see so many who were well and whole. Ned was directed to Robb after a few minutes of greetings.

Robb and Theon stood together beside a cooking fire, laughing as the direwolves lounged upon the ground nearby. The wolves spied Ned first, standing up with greeting howls and moving swiftly to Ned’s side so that they could sniff him. Standing, the wolves’ heads were level with Ned’s waist. He found himself questioning the wisdom of allowing his children to keep such massive creatures.

“Father,” Robb exclaimed.

Ned looked up from the wolves to his approaching son, a smile upon his face. His son was growing from boy to man too swiftly. Robb walked swiftly to him, as he had so many times as a boy, but now his gait was slowed. Robb was now a leader in the North. He was now a commander of armies. No longer could Robb run to Ned as he had when younger.

They clasped arms and then embraced. “The Armies of the North are yours, Lord Stark,” Robb said formally when they separated.

“You have done well in leading them,” Ned told him. “I am proud of you.” He turned to Theon who was standing just behind Robb. “I am proud of you as well, Theon. You both performed bravely.”

Theon’s smile was broad. “It was an honor to fight for you, Lord Stark.”

Ned regarded his ward kindly. Despite some of Ned’s misgivings about the young man’s character, he was glad that Theon was alive and well. “I am certain that it was but the first of many chances to prove your valor. Theon, please assist with breaking down the camp and bringing the men into the city. Your rooms will be in the Tower of the Hand. Robb and I will be riding to the castle with the direwolves presently.”

“Of course, my lord,” Theon replied with a bow.

With a slight nod, Ned turned and began to walk back to his horse. Robb fell into step beside him, and the direwolves trailed behind. “You look well.”

“Thank you father.” Robb looked down at the cane and Ned’s limp. “How are you faring?”

“Well enough, though these have been stressful days. My leg seems to have healed as well as it wills.”

“It seems wrong that the Lannisters have hurt you and Bran but have not been brought to justice.”

  “Tywin Lannister is dead,” Ned replied gravely. “The former queen and her twin, who sought to kill Bran and broke my leg, are to be executed if they are ever seen again. Their children are in disgrace, bastards for all the world to see. Many more Lannisters are held in King’s Landing and other strongholds throughout the realms. If the gods wish bring further judgement upon their House, then we must leave it in their hands.”

Robb walked quietly beside him until they reached the horses. They mounted and rode side by side toward the castle. The direwolves followed behind them and three more of their men followed the direwolves.

“How did you convince the King to allow direwolves within the Red Keep,” Robb asked as he glanced back at the wolves.

“It took a great deal of convincing him that you would be able to keep the wolves under your control and supervision. When they are not with you, they will be kept within a portion of the godswood.”

“I can keep them under my control, though I worry about how they will fare passing through the city.” Robb looked to the wolves again, and for a moment Grey Wind met his eyes. “If needed I will walk beside them as we pass through the city.”

“That may be well advised. It would not due for them to harm anyone.”

“They only attack when provoked, or to protect us.”

“Your mother told me about Bran’s wolf protecting him from the assassin who tried to take his life.” Ned thought of Sansa’s gentle wolf whose life he had taken. He thought also of Arya’s slim grey wolf who had maimed Joffrey to protect Arya and Sansa.

“Grey Wind fought beside me in battle, protected me. They seem to be gifts from the gods.”

“Indeed,” Ned agreed. Changing subjects, he continued, “Your letters mentioned a boy named Samwell. Tell me more about him? Why did Benjen send him to Winterfell?”

Robb glanced around circumspectly. “His name is Samwell Tarly.”

“Tarly? Is he the son of Lord Randyll Tarly?”

Robb seemed hesitant to respond. “Yes father,” he replied eventually. “Lord Tarly sent him to the Wall, but Benjen, under the Lord Commander’s command, sent him to us. He’s a craven. Benjen and Commander Mormont feared for his life.”

“Did they send word as to what they expect to come of him at Winterfell?”

“They wanted us to help him stay alive, to make him brave if we can.” He laughed suddenly. “I have never known someone could be such a craven until meeting him. Even so, Maester Luwin put him to work assisting with Bran. He seemed to enjoy working with Bran and Luwin. I tried working with him at swordplay a few times but he was rubbish.”

Ned ran a hand through his hair, pondering. “And what do you recommend we do with him? Shall we tell Lord Tarly of his son’s whereabouts?”

“I... Lord Tarly...” Robb stumbled over his words. “Father, why ask me?”

“You led Winterfell for months without myself or your mother. You called the armies of the North to your side and led them to victory in the first battle you ever fought.” Ned favored his son with a warm smile. “You are my heir. Perhaps I should start allowing you to put forth suggestions in some matters.”

Robb beamed with pride. “Thank you father.” He considered his choices for several long minutes. “I see no benefit to us in telling Lord Tarly that his son is at Winterfell. He sent his son to the Wall and the men at the Wall sent him to us. Samwell Tarly is now a ward of Winterfell. Until we return to Winterfell he can continue to assist with all that Maester Luwin and Bran need, as he has been doing.”

“Wise choices, ones with which I agree. When we return to Winterfell, we will speak further about Samwell’s future.”

“Will we return home soon?”

“If all works as I hope, we will return shortly after the King’s marriage and coronation.”

Robb looked to Ned, shocked. “Truly father? You will be leaving with us?”

“If all goes as planned, yes.”

* * *

The afternoon shadows were growing long when Catelyn looked up to see her husband and son standing at the entrance of the tower’s solarium. “Ned,” she cried softly.

He walked to her, leaning heavily upon a cane. “My Cat,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. He bent to her when he reached her chair and pressed a longing kiss to her lips. For a blissful moment, she was home.

He pulled away, the promise of more shining in his eyes. Yet he stepped away and seated himself beside her. Their slightly embarrassed firstborn drew near and sat by them.

“I have missed you both,” Ned began. “More than words can express.”

“I am glad to be here with you, my love,” she replied. “Were you able to find a place for the wolves?”

“They are at present housed within the godswood. Guards from our House are at all of the entrances to turn away anyone who wishes to enter. We will be constructing an enclosure for them before next week is finished.”

“Father also said that they may stay in my rooms during the night.”

Catelyn laughed. “I fear our men would rather have them with you than anywhere else. This place is not meant for wolves, let alone direwolves.”

“Indeed, it is not,” Ned agreed. “Robb, while I delight in your company, I have much to discuss with your mother.”

Robb stood quickly. “I shall take my leave then, father, mother.” He bowed respectfully and turned and left the room.

“I have missed you, my lady.”

“And I you,” Catelyn replied with a smile. “Has your leg mended well?”

“As well as it is likely to mend. The maesters say that I may need a cane for the rest of my life, but we must thank the gods that my leg is still of use.”

She slipped her hand in his and pulled it to her lips, pressing her kiss to his fingers. “I thank the gods that your life has been spared and mine and the lives of our children in these perilous days. The party I travelled with to Lysa was attacked by mountain men, I would have died if it weren't for Tyrion Lannister.”

“Truly?”

She recalled with horror the memory of the diminutive man taking the life of men who were about to kill her. She still pondered all of her time with Tyrion Lannister. She contemplated his words, especially in matters regarding Petyr Baelish and the assassin who had tried to open Bran’s throat.

“He took an axe to a man who would have ended my life. He swears that he bore no responsibility for the assassin, and his story makes sense.” She shook her head. “Yet he did give me doubts about Petyr Baelish.”

“What doubts did he give you?”

Her eyes narrowed, pondering the pieces of a nearly year old puzzle. “Petyr said that Lord Tyrion owned the dagger which was used against us, that he bid against Ser Jaime in the joust, but Tyrion said that he never bets against family.” Catelyn’s thoughts turned to her sister in the Vale. Lysa... who had tried to execute Tyrion Lannister without any evidence or questions asked. Her sister who had threated to take her very life.

He thought carefully about her words. “You believe him?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that he could have let me die and he didn’t. What’s more is that my sister’s actions were so erratic. She wanted to execute Tyrion without a trial and then she accused him of Jon Arryn’s murder.”

“Jon Arryn?” He stared at her in confusion. “Why would she accuse him of killing Jon? I was able to discern that he died for knowing that Cersei’s children were bastards, but why would that lead Tyrion to kill Jon?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand my sister, not anymore. Moreover, I do not trust Petyr. Tyrion told me that he has boasted throughout the court that he...” She felt her cheeks flush red with rage. “Petyr has apparently gossiped that he bedded me whilst we were at Riverrun.”

Ned stood suddenly at her words, furious. “That man... how dare he?”

“Ned,” she said calmly. “I don’t know whether or not he has truly said anything against my honor. I only have Tyrion’s word on that, though a few discrete inquiries can certainly be made.”

He paced a few times before seating himself beside her again. “I wonder how much we should trust Littlefinger. If he has been spreading rumors about you, and if he lied to us about the dagger, what else might he be lying about? We must take care with him, more than I have already.”

“The world has changed so much in this past year, but still I cannot help but worry that we may never know who tried to murder our son.”

“Jaime Lannister threw him from the tower,” Ned said with a sigh. “But we may never know the answers to Littlefinger’s lies, or your sister’s strange accusations, or even learn why a catspaw was hired to murder our son.”

“I wish it were easier to discern why all of these events have transpired.”

“As do I, but we must move forward, as we always have.”

Speaking and thinking of their son brought Catelyn's thoughts around to her daughters. “Where are Sansa and Arya?”

“In Dorne,” he confessed. “I sent them south with Lord Beric Dondarrion. At Blackhaven they entered the custody of the ladies of House Dondarrion. They later travelled to Sunspear and the Water Gardens where they have been under Prince Doran Martell’s protection.”

“Why Dorne?” Her voice shook against her wishes.

“I needed them to leave the city swiftly. Lord Tywin’s armies moved in the north and no ship was readily at my disposal, so I had to entrust them to the south. Lady Ashara's children were here as well. Jon and Arthur came for the tournament and Alysanne came with Prince Oberyn. It made more sense to send them away together.”

She released his hand and drew her hands together. She was glad for the safety of her girls and yet pained at the reminder of Ned's bastards. “Have you heard from them?”

“Yes, my lady, they are doing well. They will arrive in a few weeks with the Princess Arianne.” He hesitated. “There is more. Lady Ashara will arrive as well, she will be attending Arianne.”

Catelyn's blood ran cold as ice. She pressed her lips tight together, and looked down.

She jumped at the gentle touch of his hand upon her wrist. “Cat,” he soothed. “Were it my will she would not be here with us.”

She shook her head, pulling her hands from him. “You say that now, but will you say that when you see her? Will you send me home so that you can live here with her?” A sob escaped from her lips as she stood and wiped away her tears.

He walked to her and held her, though she fought at first to break from his embrace. “Shh, my love. I will never send you away. I have already informed the King that I want to return to Winterfell. He plans to ask Lord Mace Tyrell to be his Hand. After the coronation and the wedding the King’s attentions will turn to his brother. Once matters regarding Lord Stannis are settled, we will go home, together.”

She looked up at him, not quite trusting his words. “You would give up your position?”

“My position has brought me much distress. I have the King's favor and trust but the cost has been high. I feel as though I am failure more days than not. I am of Winterfell. I know the North and I understand its people. I cannot make the same claim of the south or of southern politics. I will be glad to leave King's Landing when the time comes.”

“How did you get the King to agree with your desire to leave your position?”

He smiled. “It did not take much convincing. He knows that the Tyrells wanted their daughter to be queen, but instead he chose Arianne Martell over Margaery Tyrell. Making Lord Tyrell Hand of the King is a conciliatory gesture.”

“But to have a presence here at court lends strength to our people, Ned.”

He seemed to be careful in choosing his words. “The North will not lack position, Cat. I will be sure to choose loyal lords who will serve our interests here.”

She studied him shrewdly. “What aren't you saying?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze away from her for several long minutes. “Ashara living at court means that her children will live here as well. Jon is serving the King as part of his guard, and has been doing so since shortly before the recent battle.”

“Ned!” she pulled away. “Would you place your bastards ahead of your trueborn children? Sansa was to have been Queen…”

He was angry, hurt at her accusation. “I _am_ looking out for the welfare of all my children. Sansa will marry well, and if it pleases you and Princess Arianne, she can serve as one of her ladies. Robb will one day rule the North, his place is there. Rickon is too young to be parted from home. He will need us to return to him. Arya might do well here in the south after a few more years, but is presently too young to serve as a lady to the Queen. Bran…” his voice caught. He closed his eyes and breathed deep before looking to her again, pain in his eyes. “We will see what can be done with Bran as he grows. He... he was not meant to live the life the Lannister’s have forced upon him.”

He took another shaking breath before continuing. “Lady Ashara's children are my responsibility as well. Jon and Arthur have been able to make themselves known to the southern nobility as talented fighters, and must use that to establish themselves. They are nearly men grown, and will need to find their own paths. They, along with Alysanne and Lucas, have no share or part in the inheritance of our children. I have planned and will plan their marriages and see them established here in the south. Our children must be established in the North, with their own people.”

He stepped toward her again and embraced her. She was stiff in his arms, conflicted by the many emotions she felt. “I do not like this Ned,” she whispered, shaking. “I fear the threat these children are to our children. I fear that you will love them more than you love my babes.”

“I love all of my children, Cat,” he told her gravely. “The children I have with you and the children I have with Ashara are all my children. I have kept myself from them for nearly ten years out of respect for you and our children. They will gain no power in the North and they will be wedded to bastards of good birth, but they will never know the honors of your children.”

“What if the king decides that they should?” She shook her head, stepping back from him again.

“The northern lords would never accept them.” He gently touched her cheek. “I will allow no harm to come to our children. Nor will I allow my children with Ashara to reach beyond their stations. If Renly chooses to offer titles and lands to them here, in the south, it will keep them from gaining Northern support. Our children must marry into the North.”

“Have you been considering matches for our children?”

“I have had considerable time to consider many things during my time here. We will have time to dine with several of our lords.” He laughed and kissed her brow. “And I certain that our lords will not miss opportunities to point out the virtues of their children and our own.”

She ran her fingers through his beard and kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Are we reconciled my love,” he murmured against her cheek.

Fleeting thoughts of a raven haired beauty with violet eyes passed through Catelyn’s mind. Her heart froze at the thought of being in the same place as that woman. She feared that woman and her bastards.  She feared the darkness of the future. Yet in the moment, in the embrace of her husband’s arms, she felt at home.

“Yes, my love,” she replied, kissing him, and forgetting all her cares.


	19. Returning Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is following this story and for all of your comments!

The movement of the horse beneath him still sent sharp pains through his body. Everyone had told him that he was lucky to still be alive, and Jon Sand knew their words were true. The spear that had struck his side would have killed him if it had landed a few inches closer to his center. He thanked the gods that the strike had gone wide, piercing just the edge of his torso. So too had his head injury been relatively minor, though he had lost consciousness for days. No damage seemed to be permanent beyond the scars on his side.

Jon was glad of his pains and scars, for they were proof of his bravery in the face of death. He glanced to his right and left where his brother and cousin rode. He was glad that they too had survived the battle. Closer to the front of the long line of horses and carriages rode Prince Oberyn Martell and his daughter Obara, so solemn now with the loss of Nymeria. All of Dorne would mourn for the Prince's daughter for many months and years. He wouldn’t be surprised if the people of Sunspear wanted to have a statue made in her likeness to be added to the Hall of Heroes.

Arthur and Edric rode quite close to Jon most of the time, though they would also ride away to speak with others in the line. Arthur seemed especially fond of talking to a girl named Bella. Arthur had hired her into their household as gratitude for tending so fastidiously to Jon during his convalescence. It had taken Arthur no small effort to convince Lord Beric to allow the addition to the household. Jon wondered what their mother would think of such a questionable addition, but Arthur had reasoned that with their winnings from the tournament they could buy a small shop within King's Landing to establish their own household, and thereby avoid the need for their mother’s approval. Establishing a place of their own was a tempting idea and had many merits. They would not always be able to stay under Edric's provision, no matter how much love they and their cousin had for one another.

Perhaps they could discuss the possibility of establishing themselves in King's Landing when they arrived. Perhaps the King would allow that favor. Perhaps their father would approve as well. Jon would already be living in the capital as protector to the King and Tyene would live there as Jon's wife and Arianne’s companion.

Jon looked to Arthur, who walked beside his horse while Bella rode. He worried over his brother's growing affection towards the girl from Stoney Sept. His interests seemed to have increased since Jon told Arthur he was betrothed to the former princess Myrcella. Arthur’s annoyance at that announcement had been stronger than Jon’s own indignation in the matter of their betrothals.

Not that Jon could fault his brother’s interest in Bella or his annoyance at being betrothed. The former princess was a young girl, and born of incest to traitors of the realm. Bella in contrast was lovely, amusing, and fearless. Jon knew that they had spent hours by his bedside when he was unconscious. Hours spent talking and getting to know one another, it was no wonder that Arthur had wanted to take her away from being a whore and give her a better life. He just hoped that Arthur would have better sense than to fall in love with a former whore whom he could never marry.

With a shake of his head, Jon looked from his brother to the rest of the returning army. He could see Lord Beric several horses ahead, speaking with men who had helped lead the armies of Blackhaven and Starfall. Edric rode beside him, still so young, but now a man of battle. Jon worried for his cousin as much as he worried for his brother. He prayed they would not see war again for many years.

* * *

Jon's aches and pains lessened to a dull tenderness by the time they arrived in King's Landing. There was no fanfare to greet them in the city, and only a few minor lords who met them at the castle. Jon wondered if they should have felt offended or relieved that there was no fuss for their arrival. His idle ponderings were pushed away as they were shown to their rooms within the Keep. Unlike his two previous stays, Jon and Arthur were not given rooms within the Tower of the Hand. They, along with Edric, Lord Beric, Prince Oberyn, and the majority of the Dornish nobles were all quartered within the many floors of the Maiden Vault and surrounding sections of the castle.

Jon would later learn that the various lords and nobles were grouped by region throughout the castle complex. Lesser nobles, knights, and various followers from the many households were also housed within King’s Landing or in tents beyond the city walls. He would grow to be glad that he was in a permanent lodging as several lesser nobles would be moved more than once in the days to come.

The chambers to which Jon and Arthur were shown contained three interconnected suites of rooms with enough bed chambers for their entire family and quarters for their servants. The steward who brought them to their chambers informed them that their mother was expected to arrive in a few weeks with Princess Arianne and the Dornish court. Lord Beric helped them with choosing the rooms they would each stay in. Beric and Edric would share one suite; Ashara, Alysanne, and Lucas the second; Jon and Arthur would share the third suite.

Jon stretched across his bed as soon as he entered his room. He knew that he should care about getting dirt on the coverlet, but he was far too weary of travel to care. The feather bed was softer than the bedroll he had slept in for the past several weeks. He would have fallen asleep then and there if it wasn’t for a knock upon his open door.

He looked up to see a page standing beside the door. “Jon Sand,” said the man, “His grace, the King, requests your presence.”

Jon groaned, pushing himself up from the bed, his wound aching. “Let me wash a bit first, I’d like to be presentable before the king.”

The man gave a curt nod, “Of course.”

Jon stood then and walked to the wash basin. He poured water from the pitcher into the bowl and then grabbed a cloth from the small stack on the bureau. He dipped the cloth into the water and with it wiped away the sweat and dirt of travel from his face, neck and arms. He pulled a clean tunic from the top of a chest and changed out of his sweat-stained travel tunic. He was hardly clean when finished, but felt more presentable.

He followed the page out of his chambers, out of the building, and across the castle grounds to Maegor’s Holdfast. They made their way through the long halls of the holdfast, winding their way upward to the King’s rooms. The sound of laughter drifted down the corridor as they neared a corner room.

The goldcloaks at the doorway allowed them inside, where the page announced their arrival. “Your grace, Jon Sand of Starfall as you commanded.”

The king was seated at a small table with three other men, playing a card game. Several more men stood around the room or sat at other tables, playing their own game of cards. Lady Brienne of Tarth, Ser Arys Oakheart, and Ser Preston Greenfield stood near the king, keeping careful guard over him. King Renly laid down his cards, smiling broadly when he looked up at Jon. Jon bowed stiffly to the king, his side aching. Renly stood, walked to him, and clasped his arms, laughing all the while.

“It is good to see you standing again, Jon.”

“It is good to be here, your grace.”

The king shook his head in disbelief. “I can only imagine the relief you feel. Come with me, we must speak.”

Jon walked with Renly to an antechamber which was furnished with a desk and several chairs. Jon noticed that the three members of the guard had followed, but remained outside the chamber door. Renly poured wine from a decanter into silver goblets and handed one to Jon as he sat, telling Jon to do the same.

“I asked you here to thank you for guarding my life. Most men would have run away from a spear, but you risked your life to save mine.”

“It is my duty to serve you, my king,” Jon replied.

“A duty which you performed admirably. Tell me, how are you mending?”

“I am still somewhat sore, but otherwise I seem to be healing well.”

“Good,” he laughed. “I am glad to hear it. I have already spoken with your father but wanted to speak with you of the rewards you will receive.”

“Rewards, your grace? I merely did my duty.”

“And in doing that duty you saved me, for which a king must give honor. You will be knighted first of all, at a ceremony with the court in attendance. I will also be granting you land. There is a small keep in the Stormlands, two days ride south, which has been unoccupied since the Rebellion. The former owners were loyal to the Targaryens and did not survive the Rebellion. Its lands, tenants, and incomes will be yours and your descendants so long as your bloodline shall endure.”

Jon drew a sharp breath and bowed his head low. “I am… thank you, your grace. I have no words.”

Renly laughed. “Save my life again and I will have to give you better lands and titles. Now, why don't we play cards?”

Shaking his head in wonder, Jon could do little else but laugh and agree. They stood and walked back into the sitting room. Renly introduced Jon to the men in the room, Lord Bryce Caron of Nightsong, Ser Balon Swann of Stonehelm, Ser Guyard Morrigen of Crow’s Nest, Sers Aemon and Andrew Estermont of Greenstone who were cousins to one another and to King Renly, and Ser Emmon Cuy of Sunhouse, a cousin to Edric Dayne. The men greeted Jon warmly, welcoming him into their games of chance.

“The last time I saw you,” Ser Emmon told Jon as they played, “You stood as high as my waist. Now look at you, taller than me and a hero of war.”

Jon smiled. “Five years is a long time.”

“It’s naught so long when you are older than a pup,” Lord Caron said, laughing.

“That pup saved the King,” Ser Andrew chided. “Be quite a day when we see you do the same.”

“May we have no need of such a battle,” Ser Aemon added. His sentiment was met by cheers throughout the room.

“You forget, Ser Aemon,” Lady Brienne said when they quieted. “Not all of the King’s enemies are defeated.”

Renly favored her with a wry smile. “True, Lady Brienne, but they will be brought to heel quick enough. Now! Enough talk of war, there are games of chance to be won!”

The men cheered again, but Jon looked to Brienne, noticing her somber mien. He knew that she was right, the King’s brother still stood in opposition to the throne. Who knew how many other lords were merely biding their time to strike a blow against the crown?

Jon focused on enjoying the games and the company Renly had gathered. All the while, his mind raced with the thought that he was to be a knight, and even more, that he was to be granted lands and holdings. He could hardly wait to tell his brother and family the wonderful news.

* * *

Four days after returning to King's Landing, Arthur Sand took his place in the training yards. Now, for the first time, the weight of his actions fell heavy upon him. He had killed with these skills which he had honed at play. No longer was this play, but true preparation should he need to ride out in battle again.

He raised his bow, feeling the smooth grain of the wood beneath his fingers. He had not touched it that way since the battle. He picked an arrow from the quiver at his right and nocked it. A breath later he let the arrow fly at the target. It was a fair hit, though not quite center. He did it again, and again, losing himself in the movement.

He felt nothing as he let the arrows fly. At times it was as if he heard screams and could smell the scent of blood. Yet there were no screams, only the echoing shouts of the men who trained with their swords across the yard and the clash of blunted blades against one another.

When he was out of arrows, he walked to the target to retrieve what he had shot. He plucked them out one by one, wishing all the while that Jon was with him. Jon, however, was busy guarding the King. Edric was training with several other young men on the far side of the training yard. Lord Beric, Prince Oberyn, and Arthur's father were in meetings.

The yard was slowly filling. Men from every region and women from Dorne and House Mormont, in the far north, were gathering to train. He wondered if his half-brother Robb would be in the training yard. They had yet to meet, though their father promised a meeting soon.

Jon arrived as he was running through the arrows a third time. He was garbed in the deep purple robes of his position, which were emblazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon.

“You want to practice with swords,” Jon said in greeting.

“Can you spar yet,” Arthur asked as he loosed an arrow into the target.

“The maesters finally said that I may, though only for a short while. If I hurt at all I am to stop at once,” Jon’s tone was mocking, as if he had heard the same lecture more than once.

Arthur turned to Jon with a smile. “Then gladly I will spar with you. Help me gather the arrows?”

“Yeah, then it will be sooner ‘til I best you.”

Arthur set his bow against the arrow bin, laughing. “I’d like to see you try. You're probably slow after so many weeks without practice.”

“We’ll see.”

So they both cleared the arrows from Arthur's target and lane, putting them away when they were finished. Arthur gave his bow to one of the quartermasters for safekeeping before they walked to the men who were training with swords.

The northmen were cheering when they arrived, watching two men in armor spar in the largest of the training rings. They found their way to Edric to watch the two in the ring. Both were good fighters, but their style was different than the Dornish way of fighting.

“Who’s in there,” Jon asked Edric.

Their cousin shrugged. “Don't know, Northern born is all I heard. They're good.”

“Eh, Jon’s faster,” Arthur said. “Or he was before his injury.”

“I am still faster than you,” Jon rebutted.

They watched the men spar, one was broader and a bit shorter than the other, yet he was the quicker of the two with his blade. He managed to disarm his opponent and bring him to the ground. The northerners cheered, some shouting “Robb”, “The Young Wolf”, or simply “Stark”.

Arthur, Jon, and Edric looked at one another knowingly. Lord Stark’s eldest trueborn son was the winner of this particular sparring match. Robb stretched out his hand and helped the other man off the ground. Both of them removed their helms, laughing. Robb’s hair shone bright red in the morning sunlight. He smiled easily at his opponent. The other young man had thin black hair and bore a half-hearted grin.

The crowds began to spread out again, returning to their sparring partners and trainers. Jon however walked toward their half-brother, with Arthur and Edric trailing him.

“You fought well, Lord Robb,” Jon announced when they were close enough to be heard.

He smiled warmly, but his gazed remained assessing and puzzled. “Thank you. I do not believe that I have yet made your acquaintance?”

“No, we have not met. I am Jon Sand, and I serve the King in his personal guard. This is my brother Arthur, and our cousin Edric Dayne, the Lord of Starfall.”

Robb Stark's smile faltered as Jon spoke. “Well met,” he managed to breathe in reply. The dark-haired young man he had sparred with laughed loudly, earning a quick glare from Robb. “This is Theon Greyjoy, Heir of the Iron Islands and ward of Lord Stark.” Theon’s smile thinned at the mention of the word ‘ward’. “Father has told me that you were badly wounded defending the King.”

“I was,” Jon replied. “But I decided I wasn't ready to die.” His words sparked light chuckles from them. “Now his grace plans to knight me and grant me lands for my efforts, so it seems living was worth the effort.”

“Indeed,” Robb said with an uncomfortable laugh. “It is a pleasure to meet both of you. I have heard tales of your participation in the Tourney for our father and in the battle against Tywin Lannister.”

“The tournament was fun,” Arthur said. “And the battle was a trial. It was harder to see the aftermath and wait beside Jon's bed than it was to fight.”

Their brother's face grew grim. “I know that feeling. Tell me, how were Sansa and Arya when you last saw them?”

Arthur spoke first. “They were well. They both seemed to like Blackhaven. Father said that they left from Sunspear recently and should arrive in a few weeks.”

“Arya tried to ride back here on our way south, more than once,” Edric added with a laugh.

“That sounds like her,” Robb said with a shake of his head.

“How fares young Brandon,” Jon asked. “We heard that he had been thrown from a tower.”

“He is alive. He cannot walk again, but the gods spared him,” Robb replied, his expression distant. “He wanted to be a knight. He loved to climb the towers of Winterfell.”

“Has your maester made a wheeled chair for him,” Jon asked.

Robb shook his head, puzzled. “No, I have never seen such a thing.”

“Prince Doran uses one,” Edric said. “His gout pains him too much, so he sits in a wheeled chair.”

“I shall ask Prince Oberyn to discuss the matter with Lord Stark,” Jon offered. “I am certain that one could be made to assist… our brother.”

“Thank you,” Robb replied quietly.

“Well,” Jon said. “We were about to train, do you want to join us?”

“Gladly,” Robb answered. “What do you say Greyjoy, shall I win against you again or will you try my father's sons?”

“I can win against all three of you,” Theon announced with a smirk.

“You can try,” Arthur taunted.

* * *

Jon could only spar for half an hour before he needed to rest. His body was still healing from his injuries, but it had felt good to swing a sword again. Arthur had let him win after Robb swiftly won their match. He had not gone up against Theon Greyjoy, but was now watching as Arthur held his own against the Heir of the Iron Islands.

He still worried about his brother. It seemed as though a wall had grown around Arthur, dimming his smiles and guarding his thoughts. Jon wondered if death had so shadowed his younger brother that his eyes would never fill with light again? He hoped not.

The battle still weighed heavily on Jon’s mind at times. He had awoken more than once in a cold sweat with his heart racing. He struggled at times to remember that the battle was over, and the remaining enemies of the king would surely be brought to peace soon, one way or another.

Jon wondered how Lord Beric had learned to cope with war or how his father had learned to be at peace with death and killing. To kill was no easy thing. Even so, Jon, Arthur, Edric, and Robb had all spilled blood in the battles they had fought.

Arthur won against Theon, knocking the sword out of the older boy's hand. They were panting from their efforts. Jon cheered for his brother, impressed that Arthur had bested Greyjoy. Jon wondered if their training was the main reason for Arthur’s victory. The northern style of sword play was far different from the style Oberyn had taught them in Dorne.

From the corner of his eye, Jon noticed a group of men approaching. Turning, he saw his father at the head of the group. He stood, pain stabbing in his side where he was still tender from injury and lack of use.

Robb stepped forward, a broad smile on his face. “Father,” he called out.

Their father smiled back, and at once Jon felt a flash of anger and jealousy. Fifteen years without a father, years which Robb had spent with him. Robb, younger than Jon, had been the one to hear their father's instruction. He had been the one to feel their father's embraces and affection.

Jon moved beside Arthur and laid a hand between his shoulders. At once, tension faded from his brother. They should have had time with their father, just as Robb had experienced his whole life.

“Good day to you,” their father said when he was close. “How has training been today?”

“Training has gone well, father,” said Robb. “I won against Jon.”

“Are you well enough for training,” Lord Stark asked, concerned.

“Yes,” Jon replied. “The maesters have allowed me to train, so long as I rest often. They think that training will help my muscles heal faster.”

“I'm glad to hear that. I am also glad that you have met. I apologize for neglecting to introduce you.”

“You have been busy,” said Robb.

“The matters of the king are important,” Jon added.

“Indeed,” their father replied. “Speaking of the King's matters, Theon, your presence is requested by the King. Alyn will take you to him.”

“I…,” Theon stumbled over his words. “Of course, Lord Stark.” He inclined his head to Lord Stark briefly before he walked to the quartermasters to remove his training armor and practice sword.

As he was walking away, their father spoke again. “I am proud of you,” he looked at each of them in turn. “The three of you rode to war years before I ever saw battle and have returned alive and whole. I thank the gods that you are all here.”

“Thank you, father,” they all murmured.

“My duties to the King are ended today, and as such I want to take the three of you into the city.”

“Truly father,” Robb asked, excited.

“Aye,” he replied. “I think that a few hours in the city would be a good way for us to get to know one another.”

“It sounds like a good plan,” Jon said. Arthur murmured his agreement before Jon continued. “Though I should like to change from my uniform.”

Their father nodded in agreement. “Very well. I will send word to the stables to prepare our horses and we can meet there in an hour.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some comments.
> 
> As much as I enjoy answering questions, every now and then some of you ask super specific questions regarding the future of the story... and while I know what will happen I can't answer those questions for you because that sorta ruins the story.
> 
> Regarding Ned's choices in marriages for Ashara’s kids. Since I have had many questions on this.
> 
> Kids aren't the ones who benefit from arranged marriages, the parents are. Children have two major purposes in a vaguely medieval world: inheritance and alliances. The firstborn son (except in Dorne) inherits unless that child dies, then it goes to the next son, then to the eldest daughter if all sons are gone. Bastards have no inheritance. They can be shown kindness on the part of their parent and be granted lands/titles/moneys, etc... but usually they get nothing. This is because bastards are seen as threats to the line of inheritance. It doesn't sound nice, but bastards have caused such issues before so nothing says they won't again. Because of this, Ned was always going to keep Ashara's kids in the south... not that they care, they are from Dorne, that's their home. The North is a strange place half a world away from them.
> 
> Ned cares about his kids, but still sees them as tools for alliances, like any other noble parent does. (Just with more love than someone like Tywin.) There are very few exceptions who don't see their children as potential alliances, mostly Lysa is the only person I can think of right now.
> 
> So how is the marriage of Arthur and Myrcella beneficial? For one, it was arranged when Tywin was still alive, and it hedges the bets of Ned/Renly/the small council that Tywin/ the leading Lannister cares about the safety and future of another Lannister, even though she is a bastard. Given that Tyrion is still the Lord of the Westerlands, even though he is a prisoner at present, she is very important. Tyrion loves his niece and one of his nephews.
> 
> Jaime and Cersei are reviled in some areas, but not all. They are a source of shame to the west, but Tyrion loves them and is Lord of Casterly Rock. Captive he may be, but no one doubts his mind or spitefulness. Myrcella will grow up, and unless she is married to someone loyal to the crown, she becomes her uncle's tool. The goal of Ned/Renly/etc is that she will marry Arthur and thereby ensure the allegiance of Tyrion for the sake of his beloved niece.
> 
> Her being born of incest also really isn’t as big of a deal as it might seem. I would argue that the nobles of Westeros don't really care as much about incest it seems on the surface. The Targaryens ruled for 150 years after the dragons died out, still wedding brother to sister, and the nobles were very in favor of marrying the royals. There is more of a stigma to it since the Targaryens had some crazy streaks, but not all Targs were mad (Maegor, Aerion, and Aerys were definitely madmen, others not so much). Olenna Tyrell was going to marry a Targ, and Tywin wanted his daughter to marry Rhaegar. So, yes the people see incest as wrong and claim the gods disapprove of incest... but it was also welcomed in the royal family... literally the excuse Jaime and Cersei used for their union.
> 
> The Martells, Daynes, and Baratheons all have Targaryen ancestors, so some pretty big hypocrisy has to go into hating a current generation of incestuous offspring vs a past one. So yes, Myrcella has a stigma attached to her, but it's honestly not any worse than any other bastard has.
> 
> So Arthur can be grumpy about it all he wants... but he was/is never absolutely never going to be married to someone of his choosing unless he elopes. But if he elopes, he would likely lose any income that his father is giving him (which... yes, Ned is giving support for the kids). That's not a risk anyone wants, so he'll obey (as much as any 13 year old boy will).
> 
> None of Ned’s kids (or any other noble kids) will get a choice in who they are married off to, that's the cost of being born noble/royal.


	20. The Dornish Arrive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is following this story and for all of your comments! And to my beta for your suggestions, as always.
> 
> I have a family tree for this story which you can look at, I hope it helps!   
> http://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=nxs6b3jknu&f=293650846979428982

Ashara Dayne’s stomach churned as the walls of King’s Landing drew near. Their journey had been long, covering both sea and land. They had travelled from Sunspear to Storm’s End by sea, and then from Storm’s End they had travelled north to the capital. Travelling the entire way by sea would have been faster, but Blackwater Bay was not the safest route to travel for the Heirs of Dorne, not with Stannis Baratheon still at Dragonstone. So they took the King’s Road to the Blackwater Rush, and were now waiting for the barges to cross the Rush.

Waiting worsened the feeling in her gut.  She had never thought that she would set foot in the Red Keep again, yet here she was. Prince Doran wanted her with Princess Arianne. He commanded that she teach his daughter everything she knew about the Red Keep and the nature of the royal court. Ashara was the only Dornish noble who had lived for any length of time in the castle, so Ashara agreed to go, for Doran, for Arianne, for Elia. She would live in service to Arianne as she had done for Elia.

She wished that her children could be anywhere else, but they too would live in the Red Keep, serving their Queen. Alysanne seemed happy with the idea of living in the capital. Ashara looked to where her daughter and son stood, laughing and milling about with their half-sisters, Ellaria’s girls, and Sansa’s friend Jeyne. Arianne and Tyene were nearby, preferring to keep their own company.

Ashara looked at the water, the barge would come soon to ferry them to the other side. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering though the day was hot. She had no desire to set foot in King’s Landing or the Red Keep. Her thoughts continually strayed to Elia Martell and her murdered children. What if this new regime failed? Would the same fate befall herself? Her children? Arianne?

She jumped at a gentle touch upon her arm. Turning, she saw her sister Allyria standing at her side. “Are you feeling well?”

Ashara forced a grim smile. “I don’t want to be here.”

Allyria leaned into her side and kissed her temple. “You can do this.”

“I’m just glad that you are here with me.”

She laughed lightly. “How could I refuse the invitation of my lord husband to attend the wedding and coronation of our King and Queen?”

“Indeed, such events happen seldom in a lifetime.”

Allyria’s eyes followed Ashara’s stare, settled upon Princess Arianne. She took Ashara’s hand in her own and squeezed. “Her fate will be a better one than her aunt’s.”

“I pray the gods that it may be so.”

“Try to have faith in the peace that has been won.”

Ashara smiled wanly and smoothed stray strands of hair from her sister’s face. “Oh to have your faith in the world.”

“You did once.”

She sighed, looking at the red walls of the castle across the water and then at her children. “Once,” she admitted. “But I have seen too much pain to still hope so purely.”

“Your children yet live, surely that gives you hope.”

“It does, but how many more wars will they face? How many will your own children face one day?”

Crestfallen, Allyria merely drew closer to Ashara and rested beside her. They stood together quietly for a time, waiting to cross into the city. Her thoughts wandered to the city before her and to Sunspear behind. She thought of Prince Doran’s command that she maintain the propriety expected of a lady in service to a queen. He had sounded like his mother then, for Princess Meria had spoken very similar words shortly before she had gone to King’s Landing with Princess Elia so many years past. When Ashara told him as much, he merely reminded her that she should have obeyed that command then as well as now.

Ashara had no intentions of doing any dishonor to Arianne. She had spent too much time in disgrace and had no desire to bring further shame upon herself, her family, or her children. Her stomach churned again as she looked to the city. Ned was here, serving as Hand. She dreaded a conversation with him. How could she explain having told Alysanne about Jon? Moreover, how could she live in the Red Keep with Ned and his wife? For the first time in all their lives they would be together, and she wanted little more than to run back to Starfall.

She was resigned to doing her duty, no matter what her desire. Princess Arianne would need guidance in her new position.  One thing the Princess had always lacked was strong guidance. Her father was rather too lax in disciplining Arianne and the girl's mother was utterly absent. Would Mellario even bother to visit her daughter the Queen? Ashara would never understand how a mother could abandon her children.

Eventually, the barges arrived and they crossed the Rush, entering the city through the busy River Gate. From there they wound their way through the busy city streets, flanked by guards on every side of their long procession. They eventually found themselves on the broad, tree-lined avenue which led directly to the Red Keep.

There were no heads on spikes beside the gates of the Red Keep, which was a welcoming sight at least. Beyond the gates a welcoming party awaited. Every Dornish lord, lady, or knight who was in King’s Landing stood there in greeting, along with men from many other regions. Ashara recognized some by sight and others by the emblems they wore. Still, the welcoming party seemed rather small for the future queen.

Strangely, the King himself was not present, nor was Ned. She did see Prince Oberyn Martell at the front of the crowd. He seemed somber, doubtless he still mourned his second daughter. Obara stood just behind him, cold and hard. She saw Lord Beric near the rear of the group, with Arthur and Edric beside him. Heavy weights lifted from her heart at the sight of them, for they were all well and whole. She did worry that she did not see Jon. Had his wounds healed? That doubt fled swiftly as Arthur smiled broadly upon noticing her. He would not smile so well if anything had happened to Jon.

They dismounted before they were formally welcomed, all two hundred or more people who had arrived with Princess Arianne. Nobles, servants, and guards who would stay in King’s Landing for the wedding and coronation, and others who would remain in service to the King and Queen. When the assembly quieted, Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn stepped forward from the arrivals while Prince Oberyn approached them from the welcoming party.

 “Welcome to King's Landing, Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn, my brother's children.” He drew near to them and greeted each with a kiss.

“Thank you uncle,” Arianne and Quentyn replied.

“His grace, the king, wishes to extend his apologies that he is not here to greet you.” The warmth in the tone was hardly honest. Ashara could see that he was offended by the King’s absence. “The council has been busy of late. You are requested to dine with him this evening at a feast to welcome you to court.”

 “It will be my pleasure, uncle.” She smiled broadly, though it quickly fell. “We mourn Nymeria greatly.”

Ashara could see the deep pain in his eyes at her words. “The gods take whom they will in battle. Obara and I were spared while Nym has gone to her mother. The one who harmed her is dead.”

She bowed solemnly at his words, tears shimmering on her cheeks, unable to speak a reply.

He beckoned for the Stark girls next, though his eyes looked to his daughters who stood between Ellaria and Ashara. Oberyn was never one for formalities, but this occasion was one of great purpose. No matter how much each one of them might long to hold their loved ones, formalities at the royal court were required.

“Welcome back to King's Landing, Ladies Sansa and Arya of House Stark. Your father is with the king or he would have greeted you himself. I am also to inform you that your mother and eldest brother await you in the Tower of the Hand.”

Sansa was still politely giving her thanks to Oberyn when Arya shouted “Mother!” and began to sprint across the courtyard toward the Tower of the Hand. Sansa at least finished her courtesies before racing after her sister. Abandoning her propriety, Sansa's young friend Jeyne launched herself toward one of the Stark men in the crowd, her father from what Ashara could see and hear.

All pretense of decorum quickly faded after that. Oberyn's daughters found their way to him. Arthur, Edric, and Lord Beric made their way toward Ashara, Alysanne, Lucas, and Allyria. Ashara wrapped her arms around her son and nephew, kissing them joyfully for their absence had been long and painful, but they were well and whole. Alysanne and Lucas joined their embrace while Allyria found herself wrapped in her husband's arms.

When Ashara finally released Arthur, she held him at arm's length, examining his face. The light of youthfulness had died in his eyes. “My sweet son.” She turned to Edric and gently held his chin, and saw there the same darkness. “And my brother's son. Would that you could have been spared the horrors of war.”

Arthur attempted a smile, but it was weak and joyless. “We did our duties mother. Jon saved the King from death.”

“And the King allowed us to witness the signing of the treaty,” Edric added.

“I am proud of you all and glad that you are safe. Where is Jon?”

“He is with the King,” Arthur said. “He is part of the King's newly formed personal guard. The King also has the Kingsguard but he doesn't have the positions all filled yet.”

“A wonderful thing for your brother.”

“There's more.” Arthur's was excited. “We are to be knighted.”

“Oh that's wonderful,” Alysanne exclaimed. “Who will knight you?”

“Jon is to be knighted by the king. I haven't decided if I should be knighted by Lord Beric or Prince Oberyn, both have offered.”

Ashara laughed lightly. “It would be a greater honor to be favored by the Prince, though you should discuss it with both and learn their desire in the matter.”

“I shall mother.”

“Aunt Ashara,” Edric said. “Our rooms are all together. We share three suites. Everyone from Dorne is in the same building, mostly.”

“Oh, where will we be quartered?”

“The Maidenvault,” said Arthur. “Little Myrcella is somewhere in that part of the castle too but we were told not to go looking places we aren't wanted. Jon told me that I am betrothed to her and father confirmed it. I don't see why I should be wed to her. She's not even close to marrying age and born of incest.”

“So were some of our ancestors,” Alysanne informed. “It's not the poor girl's fault. Our sisters said that the former princess is very kind. She will be a good wife one day, dear brother.”

“You wouldn't be happy if it were you,” Arthur complained. “Maybe father will marry you to some fat old man, then shall I congratulate you as kindly?”

“Arthur,” Ashara scolded. “That will be quite enough. It is your father's duty to see that you are all well cared for and settled in life.”

“Arthur is just upset because if he marries Myrcella he can't marry Bella,” Edric teased.

“Bella?” Ashara, Alysanne, and Lucas asked at once.

Arthur flushed and glared at his cousin, stumbling over his reply. “She's, she is from Stoney Sept. She helped nurse Jon back to health and I hired her into our household with the gold I won in the archery contest. She's very kind mother.”

Ashara considered her son shrewdly. “Well I believe that answers what I shall do first. Why don't you show us to our rooms and then introduce me to this girl named Bella.”

“Yes mother,” he replied reluctantly.

* * *

Catelyn Stark laid down her quill as the sound of young girls laughing echoed through the corridors of the Tower of the Hand. The girls couldn't have arrived already, could they? They had been expected near evening, but the hour was scarcely past midday. Still she rose, laying aside her quill and walked to the hall. It was there that she beheld her daughters running toward her with all their might.

“Mother!” They were shouting in unison, even as they found their way into her embrace.

She kissed them both, tears blurring her eyes. They were both speaking at once, their voices blending together. “Oh I have missed you, my sweet girls.”

She held them both at arm’s length when they finally released their embrace. They wore long, flowing robes which were far different from any garments she had ever seen. The fabric of the dresses was thin, colorful, and airy, though still modest. The girls were also both considerably taller than last seen. “You have both grown taller and lovelier since I last saw you. Where did you get these beautiful gowns?”

Sansa was the one to answer first. “Princess Arianne and Lady Ashara were both generous in giving us anything we needed during our time in Dorne. Lady Allyria Dayne, now Dondarrion, gave me a lap harp before we departed from Blackhaven.”

Catelyn felt her blood run cold at the mention of Lady Ashara. Yet she could say nothing to her girls of that, not when they had clearly been so well treated. “We must be certain to repay them for their kindness.”

“Of course, mother,” Sansa replied.

“Where is Robb,” Arya asked excitedly.

“He is in the godswood with Grey Wind.” Catelyn smiled, knowing that Nymeria’s presence would be a joy for Arya. She did worry for Sansa who would be reminded that her wolf was deceased. “Why don't we three talk for a while and then we can go to your brother.”

The girls agreed, and settled themselves in the sitting room where Catelyn had been writing. She called for a servant to bring refreshments while the girls began to regale her with tales of the almost year since they had departed from Winterfell.

“Our half-brothers came from Dorne to fight in the Tourney as mystery knights,” Sansa said once the tale reached King's Landing.

“Your father mentioned that to me,” Catelyn replied. “He told me that they, and your half-sister helped with your departure from here.”

“They did,” Arya agreed. “But I tried to ride back to father.”

“They made her ride double for days so that she stopped trying to flee.”

“I only stopped because I didn't know how to get home.”

“We were guests at Blackhaven after that. Arthur, Jon, Edric Dayne, and Lord Beric Dondarrion left very shortly thereafter but Alysanne remained with us. Lady Ashara and Lady Allyria arrived later with Lucas.”

“He looks like Bran, mother,” Arya said. “Well a little, he also looks like Lady Ashara.” Arya quieted then, chewing her lip anxiously.

Sansa looked to her, seeking. “Mother… do you want us to hate them?”

Catelyn's heart ached at the questioning gazes of her daughters. “I would have you hate no one, my dear girls. Hate is a poison which will only harm you and any who would seek to love you.”

Neither girl seemed particularly assured. Arya was the first to speak again, her brow furrowed. “Don’t you hate Cersei and Jaime Lannister for hurting father and Bran? Or… or Lady Ashara for having children with father?”

Catelyn chose her words carefully. “I am angry with the Lannisters for the actions they took against us and would see them brought to justice. As for Lady Ashara and her children, I do not hate them nor do I wish for you to hate them. I leave it to you to pursue friendship with them, if you so desire.”

Arya’s face scrunched in confusion. “But, you don't like them.”

Catelyn breathed deep. “My only thoughts regarding your half-siblings is simple. Their existence is a threat to you and your brothers’ claims to the North. That they were born hurts me, for it was a result of your father's unfaithfulness toward myself. Even so, I have forgiven your father, and love him. As for Lady Ashara, no I do not like her, I have no cause to have any fondness toward her. Even so, I do not hate her, nor would I wish for you to hate her.”

They were all quiet while the girls processed her words. It was Sansa who broke the silence. “Mother, Lady Ashara told us of how she and father met. She said that maybe one day we would understand. Maybe we will one day, perhaps not, but she did tell us that we do not have to like her, only to respect her as our elder.”

“I would have you do the same sweetling.” Catelyn smiled then, lightening the mood. “Can you tell me of your time in Dorne?”

Arya grinned broadly. “Oh it was wonderful! And hot. They gave us new dresses there so we would not die of the heat. I played in the pools at the Water Gardens with the other children. Sansa spent time with the ladies and in the gardens. She also got sea sick.”

Sansa glared at her sister. “Only going to Sunspear. They gave me ginger to eat on the way to Storm’s End and I wasn’t sick then.”

“Well I am terribly sorry to hear that your stomach doesn’t enjoy travelling by sea, sweetling. Did your travels fare well otherwise?”

“Yes, mother,” they both said.

Catelyn stood, smiling happily at her daughters. “Well, shall we go see Robb?” Her words were met with approval from both girls; Sansa with a smile and a ‘yes’; Arya with a shout and her nearly bolting from the room. Catelyn laughed, shaking her head. So long had passed since last she saw her girls, but they were just as she remembered. They left the sitting room and walked to the gardens so that they be reunited with Robb and the direwolves.

* * *

The trees of the godswood kept the paths in cool shade. Many residents of the Red Keep were strolling along the paths or relaxing in beneath the trees. Further along the path, Northern guards were posted to turn back any curious eyes who might be seeking the direwolf pen.

Each of the guards greeted Lady Catelyn and her daughters warmly and courteously. Some welcomed Sansa and Arya to King's Landing, glad for their health. At last they arrived at the gate of the pen where they were greeted by the sound of two wolves howling in welcome. The girls turned to their mother, eyes wide.

“Two wolves,” Sansa asked, confused.

“Nymeria,” Arya gasped, dashing toward the gate.

The direwolf was yelping as she scratched at the gate, impatient as Arya for the barrier to be moved away. It was only a few moments later that the gate was opened and the large grey direwolf was atop Arya, licking her face and yelping with excitement.

“Is that a wolf or a pup,” one of the guards laughed.

“It seems to be both,” Catelyn said, also laughing. Yet her merriment lessened as she looked upon Sansa who was near tears. She drew her daughter close and whispered in her ear. “I know sweetling.”

She trembled a little, holding back the tears which shone for the wolf she had lost. Then, looking up, she smiled at her brother. “Robb,” Sansa called.

He laughed, looking at Arya who was on the ground with her wolf, then to Catelyn and Sansa. “Sansa!” He embraced her when he drew near, lifting her slightly off the ground. “I’ve missed you,” he said. He turned to Arya, shaking his head with a laugh. “I've missed you too, Arya.”

At his words, she stood and launched herself into her brother's arms.

“Missed you Robb,” she said, her faced pressed against his chest. “How were Bran and Rickon when you left?”

“They were well, though they missed mother and father and both of you.”

“We shall see them again soon, won't we mother,” Sansa asked as she turned to Catelyn.

“Relatively soon,” she replied. “We must stay for at least the wedding and coronation. Afterward, we must await your father's plans.”

Arya chewed her lower lip, pensive. “Will we leave Lady Ashara's children behind?”

Catelyn pursed her lips, looking at the three sets of young eyes watching her. She was unsure what she should say or how to speak her mind in this matter. “Your father will be the one who decides such matters,” she eventually replied. “Let's not dwell upon those matters and instead enjoy the afternoon together. Your father and I will be attending a welcoming feast for Princess Arianne this evening, so we only have the next few hours together.”

“Why don’t we take the wolves for a walk,” Robb suggested.

“Will they behave with all the crowds,” Sansa asked.

“They should,” he replied. “Grey Wind hasn’t caused any issues, and Nymeria should behave better now that Arya is here.”

Sansa nodded solemnly. “Lady was well behaved too,” she whispered.

Robb laid a comforting hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Maybe Grey Wind and Nymeria will have a litter of wolf pups, then you can have a new direwolf.”

Catelyn gasped. “You can’t breed them.”

“Why not?” Arya looked to her, challenging.

For every good, sensible reason Catelyn could think of against breeding the direwolves, she could also think of many positives. While the direwolves were massive, fearsome beasts, they were also incredibly loyal. Bran would have died without Summer, and Grey Wind was ever Robb’s defender. She sighed, knowing she would lose this war, but perhaps she could delay the inevitable victory of her children. “King’s Landing is no place for direwolves.”

The three children reached the same conclusion at the same moment. “Does that mean?” “We can?” “At Winterfell?”

Catelyn tried to hold back her laughter. She loved seeing her children’s excitement. “You will have to see what your father thinks, but I do believe that if your wolves continue to behave that he will approve.”

When the children finished celebrating, Catelyn walked with them and the wolves through the gardens and courtyards. Catelyn was glad that she now had three of her children close. Her heart ached for the day when she would be able to see all five of her children together again, but for now she was content.

* * *

The rooms to which Ashara and her family had been assigned were vast and beautiful. She had never spent much time in this section of the castle, which was a great relief. No uncomfortable memories haunted her here, for which she was grateful. True to her words, she had scarcely entered her rooms before she had the girl Bella brought to her.

Arthur led her to the drawing room where Ashara waited. She noticed the other three children standing behind Arthur and Bella, watching with curious eyes. “Children, leave us,” she said. “And shut the door.”

Arthur cast a final pleading gaze toward her before closing the door, leaving Ashara alone in the room with Bella. The girl, to her credit, didn’t look back. Instead, she spoke up. “You asked for me milady?”

Ashara quirked a brow at the girl’s manner but made no comment regarding her conduct. She was young, and lowborn, Ashara had no expectations of propriety from her. “My nephew seems to believe that my son is fond of you. Naturally, I am curious about you.” She took a seat and motioned for the girl to sit.

Bella sat across from her, much more delicately than she expected from a common girl. “What do you wish to know milady?”

“Everything, though first tell me how you came to be a maid in my household.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. When the battle ended men came to town asking for maesters, herbalists, anyone with a mind to help really. There was some coin in goin’, so I went. I don’t know much about medicine, but I knew enough: clean wounds, change bandages, place herbs beneath the tongue to chase away fever, same as anyone knows truly. The maesters said I listened well so they took me to help with the more important wounded. Tended to your son Jon, and talked to Arthur while we waited for him to better or worsen. He asked me to come back with him and I agreed. Better life here, cleaning linens, washing clothes, and dusting the furniture, than back home.”

“What did you do... back home?”

She looked down, hesitant. “I was a whore.”

Ashara felt herself recoil. “You are barely a maiden.”

“Five and ten, milady.” Ashara shuddered, which the girl noticed. She continued with anger and determination. “What else is the daughter of a whore to do? I weren’t born in a castle, ne’er saw one ‘til I came here either. My mother died. I have no family. Mum always said that I was King Robert’s, but the word of a whore means little. Should she have sent word to the King saying that he had a bastard girl to care for? You think he would’ve listened if she had?”

She regarded the girl carefully. She was lovely, and certainly had the Baratheon look, but she was also right, she had no options in her home. “So why did you come here?”

Bella laughed lightly. “Arthur is sweet. He sought to rescue me and offered me a job. As I said, it’s better here than it was there.”

“And your intentions toward my son...”

“I have none, milady. Oh he’s fond of me, to be certain, but he’s no notion of what to do or say beyond that. It’s sweet, truth be told. I’ve never had a man or boy just fancy me without trying to bed me.”

Ashara smiled wanly. “Nothing good will come of a liaison between you and my son.”

The girl cast her eyes upon the floor. “I know milady. I have no desire to ruin the station which I have been given. But...” She pressed her lips together, suddenly anxious. “I... Arthur doesn’t sleep well. He cries out and thrashes. Sometimes he wakes, eyes wide open but seeing nothing. Some hear it but what can they do? Waking terrors after seeing death and killing isn’t uncommon. He watched a girl die, Nymeria Sand was her name. He killed people in the battle. He sat beside his brother’s bed for days... So I took to sleeping beside him. Nothing improper, milady, just laying there. It seems to calm him.”

Ashara swallowed hard, feeling a hard lump in her throat. Why had her son been forced to endure such horrors? “Does Lord Dondarrion know that you do this?”

She hesitated, yet again. “He... he found us the one morning. He was unhappy, to be sure, but his ire faded when we told him what we were doing and why.”

Ashara rested her face in her hands. She wanted to weep for the days of innocence lost. She brushed away the tears which threatened before looking up at young Bella. “I do not know if I should be angry or grateful.” She felt herself shaking, and breathed deep, attempting to steady herself. “You must be discreet. Were we in Dorne I would have fewer concerns regarding your presence, but we are under far more scrutiny here. No one can see you coming to or leaving my son’s chambers and no one can know what you did before coming here. Lie about your past, but make it a convincing lie and tell the same lie every time.”

“I... thank you milady, I will.” She looked as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her. “I shall tell everyone that my father owned a tavern and that’s where I lived and worked ‘til my parents died. Sounds likely and I can spin a tale quick enough to sound true to most folks.”

“Good, see that you do and you will keep your place in the household.”

“I will, thank you, milady.”

Ashara stood with a sigh, already wishing the day were over. “I must attend Princess Arianne. I will return later.”

Bella stood and dipped her knees as Ashara left the room. She saw the children standing in the next room, looking at her curiously. She walked to Arthur and embraced him, kissing his cheek. “She stays,” she murmured as she looked at his eyes.

“Thank you,” he replied, visibly relieved.

She pulled away from him and forced a smile. “Now, Alys and I must see if Princess Arianne requires us. I expect that you can handle the rest of our things being settled?”

“Yes mother,” said Arthur.

Satisfied that all would be well in her absence, Ashara and Alys left their rooms to seek out Arianne.

* * *

Ashara and Alysanne arrived at Princess Arianne’s chambers within Maegor’s Holdfast to a steady stream of attendants moving in and out of the rooms. They were carrying and unpacking the many chests of clothes, jewels, and other finery which belonged to the future Queen. The Queen's chambers, where Arianne was being installed, were surpassed in size only by the King's, so for as Ashara had heard. She had never been in the King's chambers and had only been in the Queen's on two prior occasions.

Inside the rooms, Ashara saw Arianne and Tyene laughing together as they looked at the view from the balcony. Ellaria Sand was busy instructing the servants where various chests were to be placed, while her daughter Elia was busy opening the wardrobes and dressing table drawers to see if they held anything of interest.

“Good Afternoon, Lady Ashara, Alysanne,” Ellaria said in welcome, loudly enough for Arianne to hear.

The Princess of Dorne and her cousin stepped into the room, smiling. “Lady Ashara, are your chambers to your liking?”

“They are lovely my lady, thank you. My sons are seeing to our belongings. What do you think of the castle thus far?”

Arianne gazed around the room briefly before laughing in wonder. “This feels like such a strange dream. Dorne was mine but now, Westeros will be mine.” Her levity fell and she shook her head. “This should have been Elia’s and Aegon’s and Rhaenys’s. Dare I ask where they died?”

Ashara closed her eyes, remembering her friend. Her tone was flat and hollow when she spoke again. “They say that Elia and Aegon were killed in her chambers while Rhaenys was in Rhaegar's room. Those rooms are on the opposite side of the Holdfast.”

“Do you know if they…” She stumbled over her words, likely thinking of the horrors which had been inflicted upon her family. “Do you know the status of those rooms? Were they… Have they been cleaned fully?”

Ellaria walked to the Princess and affectionately stroked her hair. “I am certain that the rooms were cleaned after the war ended. However, I will ask about those rooms and ensure that you are not disturbed by them.”

Arianne looked up at her, smiling tremulously. “Thank you.”

“Look,” Elia exclaimed, popping her head out of the wardrobe she was inside, and shattering the morose veil which had fallen in the room. “A dragon pin. It was at the bottom of the wardrobe.”

Ellaria walked swiftly to her daughter and pointed to the floor. “Elia! Get out of there! You are an attendant to your cousin, the soon to be Queen, you must not act like a foolish child!”

Elia climbed out of the wardrobe, frowning. “I'm not acting like a child! I just wanted to see what was here and had to climb inside to get the pin. It's a Targaryen crest.” The girl held out the pin and dropped it into her mother's open palm.

Ellaria studied the pin, turning it over in her fingers before giving it to Arianne.

“I wonder how it got in there,” Arianne pondered.

“The wardrobe has been here for many years,” Ashara replied. “It very easily could have fallen from one of Queen Rhaella's gowns and been overlooked by Cersei Lannister’s attendants and any thieves who came after the castle was sacked.”

“What was she like,” Arianne asked. “Queen Rhaella?”

“She was sad,” Ashara answered. “I only saw her smile when she held her grandchildren.”

“I am to be queen,” the Princess mused as she touched the pin delicately. “I do not want to be like Rhaella, always sad, wedded to a madman. Nor would I want to be like Cersei, angry, spiteful, and adulterous. Yet how can I know who to be when I scarcely know my husband to be and he did not have the courtesy or grace to greet me? What will the people think if I am so insulted on my first day here?”

Ashara walked to Arianne and gently touched the girl's cheek. She was fiery, this Princess of Dorne, more like Oberyn than Elia or Doran. Yet it was Elia the realm needed now, a gentle, quiet, level-headed strength. “You must be strong. You must be dutiful and gentle but you must never bend or break. You are Dorne, my Princess.”

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling weakly. “I wish my mother was here. I wrote to her, but replies from Norvos take so many months.”

“Perhaps she will come to you,” Tyene offered. “She will want to see her children again, and she will especially wish to see you as queen.”

Arianne turned from Ashara to Tyene and rested her head against her cousin's arm. “Perhaps she will.” She looked to Ellaria and Ashara. “I am so glad to have both of you here.”

“It is a pleasure to serve you, my lady,” Ellaria replied.

“It is an honor, my princess,” said Ashara. “Is there more that you will need of me today?”

Arianne shook her head. “No, thank you Lady Ashara. Alys, I would like for you to remain here to help me prepare for the welcoming dinner. Tyene and Elia, I will have you remain as well.”

“It will be my pleasure to be here with you my lady,” Alys replied.

“Then you may both retire for the evening, Lady Ashara, Mistress Ellaria.”

Ashara and Ellaria bowed respectfully to their lady in parting, then kissed their daughters farewell before they left the rooms. Ellaria took Ashara’s arm as they walked through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast. Ashara was glad of a welcoming companion in that place.

“The Princess seems to prefer younger companions,” Ellaria said.

Ashara laughed, lighthearted. “Youth often seeks youth. Not all of her companions will be as young as our girls. Young noblewomen from Dorne to the North will send their daughters to be ladies of Arianne, and some women who are older, such as us, will attend her as well.”

“Mmm, but you know how she is, always listening to whomever she likes best rather than the people who truly are the best for her.”

Ashara frowned. “I know.”

“You fear for her?”

“How can I not?”

Ellaria gave her arm a squeeze. “Oberyn was struck between relief and terror when he knew that I was bringing the girls to him. He doesn’t want us here, and yet his heart longs for them.”

“I cannot blame him. I am here less than a day and I wish that I were home, safely with my children at Starfall before all this wretched nonsense began.”

“Is it truly that bad?”

Inexplicably, Ashara began to laugh, thin and weary though it sounded. “My sons and nephew went to war and yes, by the grace of the gods, they live, but I think of all they saw and endured and...” She gasped for breath, aching for her children. “It breaks me.”

“Princess Elia and her children haunt you here as well, do they not?”

Ashara nodded in agreement. “I have thought of little else since I saw the walls of the city in the distance. I cannot imagine that it is easy for you either, with Oberyn having lost Nym on top of his hatred of this place.”

“He is distant again,” Ellaria replied, somewhat detached. “It reminds me of how he was after the Rebellion.”

“You helped him through that,” Ashara consoled. “You can do it again. He needs you.”

“He needs you as well,” she replied quietly. “He welcomed me to his rooms shortly after our arrival, which I expected, but when we parted, he asked for me to talk to you.”

“To me?” Ashara turned to look at the other woman, puzzled.

Ellaria raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “When he is like this he prefers you.”

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling a little foolish. “I... we never talk about this... arrangement, you and I.”

Ellaria did not remove her arm, but her voice went flat. “No, we never have.”

“I always feel that I am an intruder in your life when it comes to Oberyn.”

There was a strangeness in Ellaria’s eyes as she replied. “For years I was terrified that he would stay with you, marry you even. You have known one another since you were children, and you are trueborn. He could marry you today and none could contest the match. When my girls were born I began to feel safe, though still I feared his love would wane. You know he has never been one to stay with anyone for long. Still, he always returns to me... and you. I think that our viper is afraid that if he loves one person too much, he will lose that person, so he keeps us all at arm’s length.”

Ellaria’s words sense to Ashara. Ever since his father died and his mother remarried, he had always been fearful of death. He had loved Nym’s mother, no one doubted that, but her death was another step toward his coldness in love. When his mother died, so soon before Elia and her children were murdered, his affections were lost to most everyone, except for his family, Ellaria, and Ashara and her children. Even so, the love he showed was stilted and often possessive.

“He fears loss,” Ashara said simply. “I feel that fear myself.”

“Will you go to him,” she asked.

Ashara smiled sadly. “However can I refuse him? If you say that he needs me, then I shall go to him. Where are his rooms?”

Ellaria told Ashara were the Viper of Dorne’s rooms were located, a few floors and halls away from her family’s rooms. She also learned where Ellaria, her girls, Obara, and Tyene were staying within that same part of the castle. She found herself admiring Ellaria’s calmness, especially when it came to Oberyn.

They crossed the courtyards together, speaking of Oberyn, their children, and the future. They parted at Ellaria’s chambers. Alone in the corridor, she contemplated visiting Oberyn’s chambers. An hour or two with the prince would surely alleviate some of her stress... or worsen it, depending upon his mood. Instead she chose to return to her rooms, wishing to spend time with her sons.

* * *

Ashara was able to spend a few hours with Arthur, Lucas, and Edric before they left for the training yards. She had not seen Jon; she assumed that he was still on duty with the King. She wanted to see him, to hear from his lips that he was well and whole.

Alone, she bathed with the clean cloths and basin of water which were in her room. When she was done, she dressed and began to brush out her hair. She was nearly finished when there was a knock at her door and one of her stewards announcing the presence of Prince Oberyn Martell.

“The Prince may enter,” she replied, looking toward her door. Oberyn entered a moment later and closed the door behind him. “How do you fare, my prince?”

He took the brush from her hands and gently moved it through her hair. “I am better than I was of late. Seeing more of my daughters has been a blessing.”

“That news is good to hear. Nym will be greatly missed.”

His voice was solemn and distant as he replied. “She was beautiful and brave. The gods are jealous of ones such as her, always stealing them away.”

“She was so young.”

“They always are, but all youth dies in time.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes, remembering her sons. “How is Obara faring?”

“She is angry,” he said simply. “I would return her to Dorne, but she has a mind to be Arianne’s personal guard.”

Ashara smirked. “Arianne would do well with her cousins protecting her, though Obara is the least predictable of your girls. Do you know what Sarella is doing in Oldtown? She has been gone for months.”

Oberyn laughed, causing Ashara to turn so that she faced him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh?”

“She is training at the Citadel.”

“She what?” She laughed in disbelief. “That’s madness.”

He shrugged casually. “She has yet to be caught. You must not tell anyone.”

“I shall not, my lord,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

He laid her brush upon her dressing table and rested his hip against it. He gently twisted a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Did Ellaria tell you that I wished to see you?”

“She did and, while I entertained the idea, I chose to spend time with my sons and nephew.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You allowed my son to hire a whore into my household.”

“Lord Beric allowed your son to hire a whore into your household,” he countered.

“You still knew of it.”

He sighed deeply. “It mattered not to me and still is no matter to me. You are the head of this household, remove her if you wish.”

“I have chosen for her to remain.”

“Then why do you bring this matter to me?” His tone was impatient.

“She sleeps beside him.”

He laughed mildly. “Why does that bother you? You said nothing when my daughter began sharing a bed with Jon.”

“This is different! At Starfall we were safe, but here? Oberyn, my reputation has more than enough slander attached to it.” She stood, shifting anxiously on her feet. “However, my trouble is not that she shares his bed, but why she does. She told me that she has terrors in his sleep, dreams of the war. I thought they would be safe for longer. I am so afraid.”

He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know.”

She looked up at him and kissed him, hard upon the lips. She sighed as he returned her kiss and pulled her close. She lost herself in his touch, forgetting everything as he drew her to the bed.

Later, they lay sprawled across her bed, relaxing from the stresses of the day. “How are you feeling,” he asked as he twirled a tendril of her hair between his fingers.

“Relaxed, until I begin think again,” she sighed.

“Do you want to attend Arianne's welcoming feast with me?”

“I don't truly wish to leave this bed. However, as her principle lady in waiting, and as your friend, I suppose I will.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you. We should both dress, the dinner begins soon.”

She groaned, annoyed. “How soon? I have no notion of what I shall wear.”

“You could wear the gown you were wearing when I entered the room.”

“That? But it's so plain.”

“Why does that matter? You will be the most beautiful woman present, your clothes won't be noticed.”

She smiled at him, amused. “Thank you, but your sweet words will not make my wardrobe appropriate for greeting the King.”

“Trust me?”

She sighed. “Most of the time.”

“Then trust me when I say that you will look beautiful in that gown this evening, though most eyes will be upon our king and his future queen.”

She gazed at him skeptically before standing and beginning to dress. The gown was simple, yet lovely, samite the color of cream with gold lacing along the collar, sleeves, and hem of the skirt. He helped her with the laces of the gown before dressing himself as she brushed out her hair, again. She chose not to attempt an elaborate style for her hair, but instead braided half of her hair while allowing the rest to remain loose. She chose amethyst jewelry to accent her eyes.

When they were finished, they left her rooms. She found that her children had returned, except for Jon, as they were gathered in the common room, talking as they shared a light meal of bread, cheese, fish, and olives. She kissed each of them before leaving the rooms with Oberyn.

They made their way toward Maegor’s Holdfast, and the Queen’s Dining Room, where the dinner was being held. Ashara felt an uneasy sensation of familiarity as she walked with Oberyn. They had walked these paths together before, long ago. She had been so busy earlier in the day that she had been able to ignore the memories. Now, she felt the echoes of her past everywhere she looked.

She recalled the places where Princess Elia had whispered to her of her pregnancies, so excited and yet so anxious. She remembered Rhaenys, like a phantom, running after the cats who roamed the halls. She remembered Queen Rhaella, Prince Rhaegar, and Prince Viserys, once so full of life… Viserys would carry Rhaenys through the halls, telling her of the heroes of their family. Rhaella would watch her sons and grandchildren with anxious smiles.

They walked outside, along the well-manicured garden paths toward the Holdfast. She saw the place where she had wept with Elia, just before she was returned to Dorne. A ghost of memory, the embrace of her friend, as Ashara recalled the fear and worry over her pregnancy. She recalled the last glimpses she ever had of Arthur and Elia as she entered the carriage which would return her to Starfall.

Ashara brought her sleeve to her face and dried her tears on the cloth. She hated this place. She hated all that had been lost to her because of Prince Rhaegar and King Aerys.

Oberyn looked to her, keenly studying her tears.

“I hate this place,” she said, trembling.

His laughter was dark. “That is why I wanted you to accompany me. We share our ghosts here.” He held out his hand to her and she accepted, walking hand in hand with him to the dinner.


	21. A Feast for the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for reading and for all your comments!

The Queen’s Hall had little changed since Ashara Dayne last set foot inside the room. The light of the high hung candelabras shone off of the silver mirrors on the ceiling, illuminating the room in a warm glow. She and Prince Oberyn were not the first to arrive. A small number of guests were milling around the room, talking with one another.

No one announced their entrance, but the servant at the door told them that the King had yet to arrive. The Princess Arianne noticed their arrival first. She excused herself from the man with whom she was laughing and walked to them, her red gown fluttering as she moved.

“Uncle, Lady Ashara,” Arianne said, her tone warning. “I am uncertain that your presence here is proper this evening, my lady.”

“She is the eldest daughter of one of our most noble Houses,” Oberyn replied quickly. “And her son has saved the King's life.”

Arianne narrowed her eyes at Oberyn. “Did you tell her that the Hand of the King and his wife are in attendance?”

Ashara scarcely caught the smirk on Oberyn's lips when she felt herself grow cold. She took a step back, but was met by an arm holding her at the small of her back. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Ashara hissed.

“You didn't ask. Nor did you considered that the Hand would obviously attend the welcome dinner for the future Queen.” He dismissed Arianne's protests by greeting her with a kiss before continuing. “No one will speak a word about her presence. The King may praise her for Jon saving his life.”

“And Lord and Lady Stark and Lady Ashara will be subject to many inquiring looks,” Arianne rebutted, visibly displeased.

“I am accustomed to withering glances, my lady,” Ashara said with forced calm. “I assure you, none shall find cause to gossip tonight.”

Oberyn grunted a laugh, but said nothing further.

Arianne glared for a moment longer before she shook her head, her many curls swaying at the movement, and turned to the room. Ashara's eyes followed the Princess for a few moments before wandering to the crowd. She knew many of the attendees, mainly nobles from Dorne. Arianne was now speaking with her brother and a dark haired man Ashara didn't know. Her eyes fell upon a different dark haired man dressed in dark blue who stood beside a red-haired woman in a dark green gown, they were facing away, speaking to nobles Ashara vaguely knew as being from the Reach and Stormlands.

She knew at once who stood there. She turned, driven by some instinct to flee, but was met by Oberyn standing firmly in her way. She looked to him, pleading. “Let me leave, before anyone sees.”

“But where would the fun be in that, my dear? I loathe this place and this company. You can distract me and help me live up to my brother's expectations.”

She bit her tongue, hard. She was trapped, between duty and her past. “Then get this over with and introduce us,” she hissed.

He smiled then, and she hated him for it. Did he see her as nothing more than entertainment? No, she knew that was unfair. He was grieving and needed the distraction, though it was at her expense. She did need to speak to Ned again, she had just preferred to wait.

Oberyn took her gently by the arm and walked toward the pair Ashara had noticed. One of the men facing them saw their approach, Alesander Staedmon was his name, the Lord of Broad Arch in the Stormlands.

“Prince Oberyn Martell,” he announced. “Who is this enchanting beauty beside you?”

The guests he was speaking with turned to face them. She saw Ned’s face as he recognized her, first blank, then utterly shocked, before he could reign himself into a more neutral expression. When she saw his wife's face it was froze in some pallid, indescribable, emotion between pain and anger.

She could feel Oberyn’s smile without seeing his face. “Lord Staedmon, this is Lady Ashara Dayne, of Starfall.”

Lord Staedmon’s face turned remarkably blank. He knew her reputation, it would seem. “A pleasure, Lady Ashara,” he said, kissing her hand in welcome.

“I believe you know, Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King,” Oberyn continued.

Ned was frozen, his gaze lingering on her for longer than was socially polite. Then he reached for her hand and kissed it. “Lady Ashara,” he muttered in welcome.

“Lord Stark,” she said stiffly. When he released her hand, she curtsied to his wife. “Lady Stark.”

Lady Stark’s greeting was polite, proper. Ashara managed to look at her eyes and saw only a cold mask of formality. “Lady Ashara.”

Silence hung between them, thick and uncomfortable. The group with whom Lord and Lady Stark had been speaking slowly moved themselves away, though some stayed within earshot.

Lady Catelyn was the one to break the silence. “My daughters spoke very kindly of you and of Dorne. Thank you for caring so well for them in our absence.”

For a moment, Ashara was struck speechless by Lady Stark’s politeness. “It was an honor to care for them. Your daughters are both very lovely and were a pleasure to get to know. Though my sister Allyria, Lady Cerin Dondarrion, and Prince Doran Martell were their hosts and your lord husband gave the girls to the care of their… to my daughter Alysanne.”

Lady Stark’s smile thinned, still polite, though she was clearly unhappy. “Yes, they were telling me of their adventures in the south and they spoke well of your children. I must thank you for their gowns, they are lovely.”

“The generosity of Dorne is a pleasure to offer everyone. The girls languished in the heat of Dorne, and were only aided only by the coolness of our waters and clothes.”

Ned finally managed to speak. “Even so, you have our thanks.”

“You know that I would care well for any of your children, my lord.” She spoke evenly, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Oberyn snickered briefly at her words, but she paid him no mind, focusing rather on Ned. His hair showed streaks of grey, and lines weathered his face. He was older, but so was she. “Have you had a pleasant time with my eldest sons? I have not yet seen Jon since my return.”

“Yes,” he replied, a slight smile warming his expression. “You have raised them well.”

“Thank you, though I do wish they could have known you better over the years.”

She heard a sharp breath from more than one person, but met Ned's eyes. He stiffened, as did his wife beside him. His voice was cold when he replied. “My duties kept me in the North until I was asked to be Hand of the King.”

She couldn't help but laugh bitterly. “Yes Ned, duties to your people, your wife, and her children. Yet my children have no need of a father it seems.” She saw his color rise, and found that she little cared for any excuse he might offer.

“This isn't the place for such a conversation,” he growled.

“Indeed,” she replied. “I assume we will have many days hence where we may discuss such matters.” She turned to Oberyn, smiling with spiteful fervor. “Oberyn, I do believe that you have yet to introduce me to so many in this room.”

He was smiling wickedly at her, proud. “Indeed, if you will excuse us, Lord and Lady Stark? It is improper for us to occupy all of your time.”

Ned glared at Oberyn. “You may take your leave.”

“I thank you for your time, Lord and Lady Stark,” Ashara replied.

“Enjoy the feast,” Catelyn said, her tone neutral.

He guided her from them, his hands warm against her waist. “You're trembling,” he murmured in her ear.

“What did you expect,” she hissed.

“I was uncertain, but what I saw was delightful.”

“So glad that I could amuse you,” she mocked. “Never again use me for your sport.”

“I merely introduced you, the rest is your unresolved anger toward him.”

She turned to him, they were far enough away from others that they would not be overheard. “No more tonight,” she asked softly. “I do not wish to think upon it.”

He kissed her brow. “I shall antagonize you no more this day.”

* * *

Catelyn Stark watched Ashara Dayne walk into the crowd, Prince Oberyn Martell at her side. Much of the fear and anxiety which had built within her at the idea of meeting this woman receded. Ashara Dayne was fair to look upon, to be sure, but she seemed rather changeable, flighty. As Catelyn’s shock faded, she began to see the woman with indifference.

She looked to Ned and felt herself grow cold as she followed his eyes. He was still watching her, that woman with violet eyes, black hair, and a melodic voice. She had no word of comfort for him nor any word of reproach. In this matter, she left him to his own counsel. However, given that they were leaders at a feast to welcome the future Queen, they needed to move from spectacle to sociability with haste.

“My Lord,” she said. “Shall we speak to more of the guests?”

He looked to her, distance in his eyes. “It is our duty,” he said dully.

He took her by the arm and they proceeded to speak with more of the guests. She could feel a change in the room, eyes would shift from him to Lady Ashara. The room knew and whispered, eager to gossip about love affairs imagined or real, past or present.

Half an hour passed before the herald announced the arrival of the King. Catelyn and Ned made their way to the front of the room, near the three Martells, Ser Garlan Tyrell, and Lady Ashara who was still beside Prince Oberyn. All dipped their knees in welcome to the King. When all arose again, he walked directly to Princess Arianne, and bent to kiss her. First on her hand in the Andal fashion and then both of her cheeks in the Dornish fashion.

“Princess Arianne,” he said. “I must beg your forgiveness for my absence when you arrived here today. I pray that you will not hold such an oversight against me.”

She smiled up at him, for more than a foot separated their heights. “Most assuredly, Your Grace. The business of the realms is of paramount importance.”

“You are as bright and lovely as I recall, my lady,” he replied.

“Truly? You seemed terribly disinterested as I recall.”

“We were young,” he laughed. “I hope that I can amend your opinions of me.”

“I have no doubts that you will.” She was smiling broadly, though without any sincerity. She turned aside to her brother. “Please, allow me to introduce my brother, Prince Quentyn.” Prince Quentyn Martell and King Renly Baratheon clasped hands and greeted one another.

Arianne turned next to Lady Ashara. “May I also introduce you to Lady Ashara Dayne, my principal lady in waiting and mother to Jon Sand who serves in your personal guard.”

Catelyn could see the recognition pass through Renly's eyes as they flickered from Ashara to Ned to herself before returning to Ashara. He kissed her hand in greeting. “Your son is a credit to you, Lady Ashara.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You have four children, correct?”

Catelyn could feel herself stiffen at the King’s question, this was not the place to discuss bastards. Lady Ashara smiled, fondness in her features. “Yes, Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, and Lucas. They have all come to King's Landing with me so that we may attend Princess Arianne.”

“That is splendid. I look forward to meeting the rest.”

“It would be an honor, my King,” she replied.

“Well then, I believe that it is well past time to eat. Come, sit beside Prince Oberyn at our table.”

Ashara’s eyes widened in surprise. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

Catelyn breathed deep, forcing herself to remain civil. She did not wish to spend the evening at the same table as Ned’s former lover, though it would seem that she had no choice in the matter. They walked together to the head table. The King and his future Queen sat together at the head of the table. Her brother to her right her while Ser Garlan Tyrell sat to the King’s left. Prince Oberyn and Lady Ashara sat beside Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn while Catelyn and Ned sat beside Ser Garlan. Catelyn’s brother Edmure took the seat to her right, for which she was thankful.

They spoke on matters of little importance throughout the first course. Catelyn was glad of the meaningless conversation, she was able to ignore the woman who was seated across the table from her for the majority of the meal. As the evening progressed, the conversation changed.

“Ser Garlan,” Lady Ashara began, “We heard of the loss of your brother Ser Loras some months ago, you have my condolences.”

“Thank you, Lady Ashara,” he replied. “It is a terrible thing to lose one so beloved.”

“Indeed,” she said. “Losing a brother or any loved one is a difficult thing.”

“My brother died doing one of the things he loved well, fighting for the good of all people.”

The King smiled tightly, adding his own thoughts into the conversation. “Ser Loras was a good man, and a skilled swordsman. He will be missed, just as dearly as all others whom we have lost or will lose.” He forced a lighter expression, and changed the subject. “Lady Ashara, as I contemplate talented swordsmen, I am reminded that your brother Ser Arthur was one of the best swords that Westeros has ever seen. If Jon continues to perform as well as he has been, he may very well grow to be as legendary as his uncle.”

Catelyn saw Ashara look to Ned briefly before she turned her gaze to the King. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, emotion thick in her voice. “I believe that my brother could think of no greater praise for Jon, if he were here with us.”

Catelyn felt Ned stiffen beside her as Ashara spoke, and she saw Ser Barristan Selmy shift uncomfortably behind the King at Ashara’s words. She wondered what it was in Ashara’s words that provoked such discomfort in the two men. She knew that Ned was involved in the battle which saw the death of Ser Arthur Dayne, but she knew nothing else of that fight. Ned never spoke of the war, and truth be told, she had little desire to learn more details of those dark days.

Renly raised his glass and his voice. “Let us all drink to those who have fallen in battle, brave souls who bled and died so that our futures will be secure.”

 Catelyn and all the dinner guests raised their cups and drank in honor of the departed. As they drank, some at the table said names of people who Catelyn could only assume were friends and family who had died in the war. When that was finished, another guest suggested that they drink to King Renly and Princess Arianne. The suggestion was agreed to with cheering from most of the guests.

When the cheers quieted and the flagons refilled, Prince Oberyn looked amongst those closest and then to the King. “Shall we drink to the battles to come, Your Grace?”

With a wry smile, Renly sipped his wine. “The war may yet cease. Lord Balon Greyjoy has submitted, and his son shall sit on my council as an advisor. Only my brother remains outside the peace of the realms.”

Ser Andrew Estermont spoke up from further down the table. “And shall Stannis finally bend the knee?”

“Bend the knee,” Lord Yohn Royce laughed. “Stannis Baratheon will never bend, not even when he’s lost.”

Renly seemed pensive while his lords jested. When they quieted, he spoke softly. “No, my brother shall not bend, he has ever been a stubborn fool. I have, however, sent a final plea for reason. If refuses to submit, the fleet will launch for Dragonstone shortly after the wedding and coronation. Ser Garlan has already offered to lead the fleet, to which I have heartily agreed.”

His words were met with shouts of approval, but Catelyn noticed that some of their responses were tepid. Everyone in the room may have sworn themselves to Renly Baratheon’s kingship, but putting a third-born son ahead of a second-born son was not a precedent that anyone preferred. Issues of succession could arise in any number of Houses due to this, and wars could come from second sons or bastard sons claiming the inheritance which wasn’t theirs. Still, Catelyn smiled and applauded with the rest of the crowd.

* * *

Hours passed during the feast. Uncomfortable hours where Ned could feel the tension of his wife radiating from her body. Ned himself had no notion of what he felt seated beside Cat and across from Ashara. Truly there were no words to articulate everything which seeing both women at once evoked within him.

Overall, the dinner passed unremarkably. Other than a several uncomfortable glances and a few off-colored comments from Prince Oberyn, they dined in peace. Renly and Arianne by the end of the meal were laughing together easily, a good sign for the future of Westeros.

When the meal was at an end, Renly stood with his betrothed. “My lords and ladies, Princess Arianne and I shall now retire for the evening. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening and the bounty of this feast.” Everyone stood and bowed to them as they made their way from the table and out of the room. They were quite a sight to behold standing side by side, as the top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulders.

Shortly after they left, Catelyn turned to him. “I believe that I shall retire for the evening, my lord.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to our rooms?”

She forced a small smile. “You do not have to; stay and enjoy the feast if you will.”

Edmure spoke up from Catelyn’s side. “I shall escort Cat back to the Tower of the Hand if you wish to remain.”

 “I would be grateful for that Edmure,” Ned replied. “There are some here with whom I wish to speak this evening.” His wife’s brother gazed at him unhappily, which Ned chose to ignore. Instead, he looked to his wife. “I will come to you later if you wish.”

The distance in her eyes began to fade and she softened a little at his words. “I would like that Ned.”

He reached for her hand, and squeezed it as he kissed her softly. He watched her as she left the feast with Edmure. They were not the only ones to leave at that time, many in the room left for the evening. Ned moved to find the lords with whom he wished to speak, and they spoke on many matters. However, even as he talked to others in the room, he could see Ashara as she stood beside Oberyn. Her words of rebuke still rang in his head, and he knew that he needed to speak with her.

Eventually, he walked to where Ashara and Oberyn stood talking with Garlan Tyrell and Quentyn Martell. He greeted them all, and after a few moments he looked to Ashara. “Lady Ashara, may we speak?”

She looked hesitant at first, but seeing the grin on Oberyn’s face, she agreed. “Of course, my lord. If my lords will excuse me?”

“Of course, my lady,” they said.

She stepped away from them, glaring briefly at Oberyn as she moved to stand beside Ned. They walked away from the crowds, toward the large porch which ran along one side of the Queen’s Hall.

“They are watching us,” she said as they walked.

“I assume that they will do so for as long as you and I live within the castle.”

“As do I. Your wife retired for the evening?”

“She did; she was tired.”

“Mmm I agree with that sentiment. I am exhausted.”

“I can escort you back to your rooms if you would like.”

She laughed. “Oh Ned, I think it is far too soon for me to be seen alone with you. Not even a day here and already my presence creates gossip, we should discourage that don't you agree?”

“Of course,” he startled; he hadn’t considered how such an offer could be misconstrued. “I was only concerned for your well-being.”

She smiled at him, gently touching his arm. “You are ever the noble gentleman Ned.”

They walked outside, onto the porch where the air was cooler. They were alone, though still within view of the other guests. “You seem less angry with me than earlier.”

“I have never been angry with you Ned, only upset in matters regarding the children.”

He considered her words with some skepticism but did not press the issue. “I find myself agreeing with your words earlier. The more time I spend with the boys, the more I find myself wishing that I had sent for them.”

“I always thought you would. Why didn't you?”

It was easier, he thought. It was easier to avoid the issue altogether. “For Catelyn,” he said. “For a simpler life.” Her jaw clenched and she drew her arms around herself. “I am sorry Asha, for everything I have done to you and the children.”

She took a few steps forward, looking out across the parapet. He walked to stand beside her, but said nothing, waiting for her to speak. “What have you done to me Ned? Have you done anything where I had no choice?”

 “I left you alone to raise our children.”

“I was hardly alone,” she replied. “Allyria and Marissa, the nurses and stewards, Lord Beric, and Oberyn... I was well supported in my endeavours. My children lacked for nothing except you.”

“And you lacked a husband.”

“An old conversation, which I believe we had when last we spoke face to face. I may not have known what the consequences would be when I met you, what is it now... eighteen years ago, more or less? But I know now that having Alys saved my life. I would have fought to stay beside Elia to the bitter end if I had not been sent away, and I would have died beside her. Nothing will sway me from that belief, not ever.” She spoke passionately, though he could hear the sorrow in her voice. “And beside all that, I am not entirely alone, you know of Oberyn and I.”

“I do, though you seem rather at odds with him this evening.”

She looked back toward the hall, her eyes narrowed. “He is... fond of uncomfortable situations, such as our reunion. If anything, his daughter’s death has only made him testier.”

“Still, I wish that you could have had more. I know you dreamed of a different life.”

She shook her head, her expression dark. “Did you wish to speak with me about your regrets regarding me? I truly do not wish to have that conversation... preferably ever.”

He breathed deep and slow, feeling a stab of regret again for all he had done. “No, I wanted to speak to you about Jon.”

His statement seemed to spark some fear within her. “What about Jon?”

“Did you know that he is to be knighted?”

Visibly relieved, she smiled. “Yes, Arthur told me. I am very proud of him, and all that he has gained for himself.”

“Did Arthur tell you that Jon has been granted land by the King?”

Her eyes widened, surprised. “No, no he must have been waiting for Jon to surprise me with that news. That’s wonderful.”

“We were looking over the deeds to the land today. The King may have said that the grant is small, but there are some who name themselves lord with smaller holdings. There is an iron mine in the holdings, farmland, timberlands, and river access. When Jon is knighted within the next few weeks the lands will be officially signed over to him, with you as manager of his incomes until he comes of age in a few months.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears. “That’s, that’s wonderful.”

“There is more, the revenues from the lands are around five thousand dragons per year.”

She stared at him, winded, before she found her balance against the parapet. “That’s enormous.”

“As I said, his yearly revenues will be higher than some lesser lords.”

“Who all knows of this?”

“That Jon is to be knighted for his valor in battle is well known. That Jon will be granted something for saving the King’s life is also known. However, Jon and I were only made aware of the amount of his incomes today. The King sees it as a small gift.”

“Five thousand dragons per year is hardly a small gift.”

“It is for Renly Baratheon, even before he became king.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s more than that Ned, this income, this land, is safety, a place to call home should Edric choose to remove us from Starfall when he comes of age.” She paused, her excitement replaced by fear. “But Ned if he... if anyone learns the truth...”

“No one can, not ever. Even now with him so favored by the King.” He studied her thoughtfully, recalling her letter. “In your letter you mentioned having a conversation with Alys about Jon. Does she know?”

“Please Ned, don’t ask me to answer that, not here, not now.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and realized the truth. “Why? Why did you tell her?”

“Why? Because my sons were at war, in danger of death and she asked questions for which I had no answers… and I broke. Now please, let the matter rest, she will say nothing of it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because, unlike you, I know our daughter,” she snapped.

He turned from her, shaking his head. “And do you know how it is for her to hold a secret from the ones she loves most? You and I have held such secrets and know the weight of them. You know what it feels like to hold that within you, having it eat at you. Do you know her enough to believe that she won’t tell Jon?”

Aghast, she stared at him. “I... I don’t know.”

“I will speak with her tomorrow.” His response was grave, but a soft smile slowly emerged, easing the hardness of his face. “I would like to meet with all of them tomorrow.”

She smiled back, still rather fretful. “I think that is a wonderful idea Ned.” She yawned, resting against the wall again. “All of our talking has wearied me further.” She gazed distastefully back toward the banquet hall.

“Please, if you are not angry with me, allow me to escort you back. From what you have said, Oberyn might seek to fray your mood more this evening if he is your escort.”

Yawning again, she nodded in agreement. “He would try to infuriate me if he walked me to my rooms, and our being out here alone for so long likely already has tongues wagging.” She smirked at him. “Let them talk, for they shall find no basis to their rumors.”

She turned resolutely and walked with him from the balcony, back into the hall, and then out of the hall toward the entry of Maegor’s Holdfast. They spoke little until they were walking through the courtyards which led to their respective chambers. She was the one to break the longest lull in their conversation.

“Do you remember that statue,” she asked as they walked along the serpentine steps.

He turned to see the statue to which she was referring, and laughed lightly at the sight. The knight stood tall and proud, with one hand upon a spear and the other hand... missing. “I have been living here for nearly a year and yet somehow I have scarcely noticed it. Yes, I do remember. I don’t think that anyone else knows why Prince Baelor Breakspear’s hand is broken, or that the pieces lie hidden in the bushes.”

She giggled. “Serves me right for trying to walk along the edge of the wall.”

“The Prince broke your fall splendidly.”

“And I broke his hand splendidly.” Laughing, she shook her head. “I don’t think that I ever told Elia or even Arthur.”

“Why were you walking along the wall to begin with? I don’t believe I ever learned the answer to that question.”

“I believe that I was trying to attract your attention.”

It had worked. That was the day Ned and Ashara had truly begun speaking, so many years past. He bowed his head solemnly, and let the matter drop, choosing to walk quietly again. Becoming reacquainted with Ashara seemed to be a battle between avoiding pain and anger. She didn’t seem to mind the silence, and seemed more at ease beside him. As they walked, she would occasionally lean into him, exhaustion clear in every movement she made. He didn’t mind her closeness, though he was wary of being too close with her, it wasn’t a wise idea.

Eventually, they arrived at the doors to the Maidenvault. He released her arm, which he had been holding throughout most of their walk.  “I can make it to my rooms from here,” she said with a heavy yawn. “Thank you, for your company. You mentioned wanting to see the children tomorrow?”

“For the midday meal,” he replied. “I will send a messenger in the morning. Sleep well my lady.”

 “And you Ned.” He expected her to turn and enter the building; instead she embraced him and kissed his cheek quickly. “Sleep well.”

When she was inside the building, he turned and walked toward the Tower of the Hand. He entered the tower, exhausted from the day. Then he walked up the long, winding stairs toward the upper rooms. He came to Catelyn's door and turned to door handle, finding the chamber unlocked, he entered. To his surprise, she was still awake. She was seated at the head of the bed, reading a book by candlelight.

“You’re still awake.”

She looked up at him, a wan smile on her lips. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He walked to her, and sat beside her on the bed. “I’m sorry.” It seemed to be an evening of apologies. “I did need to speak with the lords at the feast, we discussed that earlier today.”

She laid aside her book. “I know, it is not the lords whose presence so disturbs my thoughts.” He reached for her, holding her small, cold hands with his own. “You watched her most of the evening. I... Ned I cannot endure this again.”

He squeezed her hands. “I love you, my sweet Cat. While I cannot change the past, I can continue to work toward the future which we are building together. I was startled to see Lady Ashara so soon after her arrival, and spent much of the evening thinking upon many matters about which she and I needed to speak. I did speak with her, and it was not a particularly pleasant experience for either of us, given her anger at my not seeing the children since they were very young.”

She pulled her hands from him. “What did she expect? That you would leave Winterfell to visit them?”

“She expected that I would send for them.” Her lips pressed tight together at his response. “I never did send for them, and I will not lie and say that I am glad of that decision. I regret never having sent for them. I will be introducing the children to one another formally tomorrow and I will allow Ashara’s children to visit this tower whenever they desire. I will no longer allow the children to be kept from me.”

“As you will my lord.” She looked away from him, withdrawn.

“Cat...”

“What more should I say Ned? I know that I have no voice in these matters.”

Stricken, he couldn’t speak for some time. “Have I ever given you cause to believe that you have no say in our lives? I admit that I have made many poor and thoughtless choices, but I have tried to do what is best for you and our children. However, I also have four children apart from you for whom I am responsible, and I must think of them.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

He held out his arms to her. “Please my love, let me hold you.”

Slowly, she moved and settled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing her scent and holding her close. “I am sorry, for all the pain I have caused you. I know that you fear what her children might do, but if they grow close to one another, it will be for the better and not the worse.”

“It’s not her children I fear,” she murmured against his chest. “It’s you.” She looked up at him, pained. “You have forsaken our marriage vows for her more than once. How can I not fear that you will again?”

He raised a hand and gently cupped her cheek. “I have given you no reason to trust me regarding her. However, I will not allow myself to be in compromising situations with her. I know that she and I will have to have many conversations with one another, but you will always know when I am meeting with her. And wherever she and I speak will be public. I will hide nothing from you, just as I will tell you that I walked her to the doors of the Maidenvault tonight while we spoke. I will not dishonor you again.”

She was quiet for a long time before she yawned, utterly spent. “We should sleep.” He looked to her, uncertain if she wanted him to stay or go. “Stay with me,” she said gently. “I don’t think that I will sleep if you leave.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I will always be here when you need me.”


	22. Lies of Omission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Hello dears, thank you all for your comments and for reading! This chapter contains several POVs, some longer and some shorter. On the whole, the chapter covers a few weeks' timespan. I hope you enjoy!

The first few rays of dawn were sneaking above the horizon as Alysanne Sand walked along the walls of the Red Keep. The gulls would shriek in the sky upon occasion, breaking the quiet of the morning. She still found peace in the early morning hours, when the world was quiet and she could think.

She felt adrift on the sea, alone, though she was with her family. Her mother now felt a stranger to her. Her brother Jon… she could scarce look upon him without thinking of what she knew. She feared that she might tell him, and was angry that he didn't know.

Her father… she had spent so many years dreaming of meeting him, of spending time with him. He had been so kind, so wonderful when they had met, exactly as her mother had always said. But how could she see him the same way now that she knew he had killed her uncle?

She knew that she should be glad of her family's presence. She knew that she should be glad of Jon's increase in standing. Yet she felt little joy or security in King's Landing.

She wanted to go home, to the places she had known all her life. The world had made sense at Starfall. The world had been simple before her father had come south, when he was a myth written in letters and words spoken by her mother.

She studied the horizon, watching the sky grow lighter as the sun broke above the sea. She would have to return to her rooms soon, to break her fast with her family. She wondered when they would meet with their father again. She wondered how long she could keep herself from telling Jon of his birth. He had known something was wrong when he hugged her in welcome last night. He was the brother in whom she had always confided, but now?

With a heavy sigh she looked up and saw a man walking toward her with two large animals beside him. She froze. The direwolves approached her quickly and he ran to catch up with them, shouting their names. She breathed again when they stopped in front of her and began to sniff her thoroughly.

"I am so sorry my lady," he said when he reached the wolves. "They are normally better behaved."

"They seem to like me," she said, laughing nervously.

"So it seems. Grey Wind, Nymeria, to me, leave her alone." The wolves eventually complied, each licking her hand briefly before sitting near him. He smiled apologetically. "I am truly sorry if they frightened you. Normally they are much better behaved. They have been penned inside the godswood most of the time since our arrival. I didn't expect anyone to be here."

"It's quite alright," she replied. She studied his face and the red shine of his hair, and she laughed to herself.

"I am amazed that you seem so fearless with them."

"They seem friendly enough, for direwolves. And I have heard of them before seeing them."

He eyes her curiously. "You are Dornish?"

"Aye," she replied, laughing lightly to herself. "And you are from the North." She wondered idly how long she could pretend to not know him, but knew that she would tell him momentarily.

"Robb Stark," he said, extending his hand in greeting that he might kiss hers. When he released her hand, he continued. "I am the Heir of Winterfell."

"I know who you are," she giggled. "I am Alysanne, your sister."

He laughed with her, shaking his head. "It seems that none of us were meant to be introduced properly."

"No, little brother, it would seem not."

"Little brother, now that's a new thought." He smiled uncomfortably. "This all seems so strange, meeting you, Jon, and Arthur."

It was a feeling with which she had grown accustomed. "I know the feeling. Though having spent the past several months with Sansa and Arya, I must say that I enjoy getting to know my sisters."

"I feel the same about Jon and Arthur, we've sparred a few times over the past few weeks."

"I heard that father has taken the three of you into the city."

"He showed us around, took us to see the jewelers, armorers, and weapon smiths. He's having them make something for each of us, from you to Rickon, but he wouldn't say what."

"Perhaps he wishes to surprise us all?"

He walked toward the parapet, the direwolves pacing behind him. "I know."

"You're just impatient to learn what the surprise is?"

He smirked. "You know me already?"

"I know my brothers. You are the same age as Jon, and Arthur's scarcely younger than you, not surprising that you'd be similar." She started laughing and moved to stand beside him. "Though, I do wonder which of you is the best sword?"

"I am thus far, though Jon has not been able to train for long periods of time."

"He's still healing from his injuries. He has always been the best of us, when training. Though we have each bested him a time or two."

"Each?" He stared at her in shock. "You have trained at swords with our brothers?"

She subtly lifted her skirt to the side, and he saw the thin blade which was strapped to her leg. "In Dorne, many women train with swords. Most of us do so privately, as we wish to be considered ladies, but many of us look to Queen Nymeria as the model of what we wish to be. My mother never learned to wield a blade, but Prince Oberyn trained me beside his daughters. Arya was very happy to learn that her interests were rather common in Dorne. Were you the one who gave her the little blade she carries?"

"I was," he admitted. "She loved to watch Bran and I train, and thought it terribly unfair that she wasn't allowed. I knew that it would be a long time until I saw her again, so I asked our smith to make one for her."

"She's a quick study. I think you should see her at work, you'll be impressed."

"I will be certain to ask her when we break our fasts this morning." He must have noticed how dark her expression grew, for he seemed concerned. "Is something the matter?"

"No," she forced a smile. "It's only... I've spent the past several months with our sisters. Now, it just seems strange to not be together."

"Oh... I... well, father won't keep us apart."

"No," she replied darkly, "but your mother might not appreciate the presence of myself or my brothers."

He frowned. "No, you are likely right. I'm sorry."

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "It is no fault of yours. However, as I think of breaking our fasts, I believe that I should return to my rooms so that I might eat with my... with that part of my family."

"Of course. It was nice meeting you."

She favored him with a genuine smile. "I am glad to have met you." She turned and took a few steps away before turning back. "Robb, do you like riding?"

He laughed, surprised by the question. "I do."

"We should go riding together soon."

"I'd like that."

"I'll hold you to it," she laughed, turning away again.

She walked along the walls, then down the tower which led to the courtyard. She walked to the Maidenvault and then up the staircases and along the corridors until she reached her family's rooms. Her Aunt Allyria and Uncle Beric were already seated in the common room, each of them writing at the large table in the center of the room.

Allyria looked up at her. "Did you enjoy your walk?"

"Not as much as I enjoy riding, but it was nice. I met my half-brother Robb. He was taking the direwolves for a walk."

"Direwolves in the Red Keep," Beric muttered. "What madness made the King think that allowing them in the castle was a good idea?"

"They seemed tame, terrifying, but tame. Where else would they have been kept?"

Beric looked up at her, a hint of humor in his eyes. "Beyond that wall of ice in the far north."

She laughed. "Father allowed my half-siblings to keep them and train them. I've heard that that Robb even used his in battle."

"It still sounds like madness to keep such a beast as a pet," Allyria said.

Alysanne walked to the table and seated herself beside her aunt. "Perhaps it is, but I wouldn't mind having one."

Allyria shook her head. "And where would you keep a direwolf?"

"I don't know. Why is no one else awake? I'm hungry."

"Your mother returned very late and your brothers and cousin are still asleep from having spent most of the night chattering away, which you were part of," her aunt replied.

"And I was still awake before dawn, as I always am."

"You'll want to sleep by the mid-afternoon," her uncle said.

She stuck out her tongue in protest. "I'll be fine."

"If that is what you believe," Allyria teased. "Well, our food should arrive soon. Why don't you get Edric and Lucas up?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Fine. It's better than trying to pry Jon away from Ty or ever attempting to wake up Arthur."

Her aunt and uncle laughed while she stood and walked to the rooms of her brother and cousin. Edric, she knew, was the easiest to wake up, followed by Jon, then Lucas. As predicted, Edric awoke with little fuss while Lucas required a bit more encouragement... namely being tickled until he was genuinely awake. While she was waking them up, her aunt and uncle worked on waking up the rest of the family.

By the time they were all awake and dressed, the servants had arranged trays of food in the dining area of their suite. Upon the trays were blackberry honey-cakes, fried fish, soft-boiled duck eggs, and fire peppers stuffed with goat cheese, with chilled ale and steaming hot tea to drink.

They sat around the table together: Ashara, Alysanne, Jon, Tyene, Arthur, Lucas, Edric, Allyria and Beric Dondarrion. Alysanne couldn't help but smile to be surrounded by her family. Her misgivings from earlier in the morning faded as she realized that she was home, even in a strange place, because she was with her family.

They talked as they ate. They spoke of their family who were home, running Starfall and Blackhaven. Lord Dondarrion's brother, Ser Rylan, had returned safely from the war and was again assisting Lady Cerin with the management of Blackhaven in Beric and Allyria's absence. Edric's mother, Lady Marissa was still managing the affairs of Starfall, though her letters spoke of how strangely quiet Starfall had become since everyone's departure.

Tyene very briefly spoke of her reunion with her father and eldest sister, but otherwise preferred to avoid the subject of family.

"I met Robb this morning," Alys eventually informed them.

"Oh, where did you see him," Jon asked.

"I was taking a walk along the battlements, and Robb was taking the wolves for a walk along the battlements at the same time."

Lucas sat up straight. "You got to see the direwolves!"

Alys laughed. "Aye, and they could eat you whole."

His nose wrinkled, annoyed. "Arya has one of them and she's smaller than me."

Beric regarded the youngest Sand sternly. "Which means that the beast might eat her and then still have room for you."

"The wolves were kind," Alys protested. "Though they should be respected as should any beast we tame. Would you treat a hawk like a cat?"

Ashara laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Really Beric, I have faith that Lord Stark would not have allowed his children to have the wolves nor brought them within the Red Keep if they were not tamed. In other matters," she turned to the children, "your father spoke with me last night and said that he intends to meet with you today."

While her brothers seemed pleased to know they would be meeting with their father, Alys fretted. She didn't know what to think of him after learning so many painful truths. Thankfully Arthur spoke up, distracting her.

"Father was at the feast last night?"

Their mother's eyes narrowed. "Yes, and his wife. It was, all things considered, an uncomfortable event. However, the King and Princess Arianne seemed to be working splendidly well together, which is all that matters."

More than one person at the table regarded Ashara with skepticism, but they let the matter pass. After they had finished dining, a messenger arrived from Lord Stark formally requesting the children's presence at the midday meal in a few hours. They told the messenger that they would gladly attend, and he left. They spent the rest of the morning on various tasks, until the time arrived for the children to all share the midday meal with their father.

* * *

When it was time for the midday meal, Ned was greeted by the sight of seven children entering the room to dine with him. Robb, Sansa, and Arya entered first, followed several minutes later by Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, and a younger boy who he rightly assumed was Lucas.

"Good day father," Alysanne said. "May I introduce you to Lucas, my youngest brother. Lucas, this is our father, Lord Eddard Stark and our half-brother Robb."

Ned walked toward the boy and knelt so that he was at eye level with him. "Hello Lucas," he said, holding his hand out in greeting.

The boy accepted his hand tentatively. After a few moments consideration he spoke up. "You look like Jon, just old."

Ned and his children all laughed. "And you look a bit like your half-brother Brandon. I'm glad to meet you." Ned stood, and walked toward the table which was prepared for the midday meal. "Come, let's eat and speak with one another."

They were all agreed, each of them taking seats around the table. The children who had met before spoke easily, prompting the children who had spent less time together to join in. Even where they sat seemed to be influenced by their budding friendships. Arya settled herself between Arthur and Lucas while Sansa sat between Robb and Alysanne, Jon beside Arthur and Ned. It felt almost perfect to see all of his children, except for Bran and Rickon, together; if only all nine could be together.

"You may all come and go from the Tower of the Hand as you wish," he told Ashara's children during the course of their meal. They seemed surprised, but he assured them that their mothers were both aware that they would be allowed to come and go. They were excited by his response; relieved that a barrier between them was removed.

When their plates were emptied, they still spoke. Ned noticed that Alysanne was colder toward him than she had been when first they met. Given that she now knew of Jon, he could scarcely blame her for her distance. When he considered Lucas, he didn't know if he should be glad or ashamed that the boy was clearly and most decidedly his own. That he bore a resemblance to Bran, his dear boy who would never climb again, broke his heart.

* * *

Tyene Sand spent the majority of her second day in King's Landing with her sisters. She preferred Arianne's company, but her cousin had spent nearly the entire day discussing the ins and outs of her impending marriage to the King with the King, Quentyn, Garlan Tyrell, and Tyene's father. Not that Tyene minded spending time with her sisters, Nymeria's loss had made their presence all the more precious to her. She missed Sarella, wishing that they could all mourn together. Still, it was sweet to spend time with her family. They dined together that evening, along with Arianne, Quentyn, and Oberyn.

That evening, Tyene went to Jon. Though they had spent the previous night together, much of it had been spent with Jon's brothers, sister, and cousin, until they had all gone to sleep for the evening. While the previous night had been spent mainly sleeping in one another's arms, this second night they spent enjoying the more physical nature of their relationship. When they were ready to sleep for the night, she lay curled upon his chest, her fingers idly tracing the scars he had received in battle. She was shocked by how precious he had become to her. Elia had called it love, and maybe it was, though Tyene couldn't quite admit that to herself yet. What she could admit was that she had been terrified that she could lose him like she had lost Nym.

"Jon?"

"Hmm?"

She sat up, pushing her hair behind one shoulder. "We should get married."

He laughed. "That's why we're betrothed isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "I meant sooner rather than waiting. Nym's death… your injuries, it showed me how short and uncertain our lives can be. I don't want to wait anymore. Nothing is stopping us."

He smiled at her and kissed her. "Why not tomorrow?"

She laughed. "We can, though we may need to ensure that everyone can be ready so soon. We are still so newly arrived to the city, and you just met with your whole family today."

"Then the next day, or whenever it best can be done. We have no reason to delay. And after Arianne's wedding and coronation we can visit the lands that the King has granted me."

"I'd like that. I think it would be nice to get away with just you, for a little while." She gave him a quick kiss before curling under the linen blankets and pressed her back to him so that he would cuddle her. He was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss right behind her ear. "I never want you to leave me."

"I never will," he promised.

Their families were surprised, though hardly shocked at the speed with which they chose to wed. None argued against delaying, so the preparations were made right away. Three days later they stood in the Red Keep's Sept, surrounded by their family and friends. They were a strange gathering of nobles and bastards, with even the King of Westeros in attendance. Tyene wore white, trimmed with gold lacing and slashed with patterned orange and red silk. Jon also wore white, trimmed with silver and violet. They said their vows in the Light of the Seven, and at the end kissed for the first time as husband and wife.

She may not have been able to say out loud how she felt for him, but none could doubt the love in her eyes as she became his wife.

* * *

They had been in King's Landing for around a little over a week when Alysanne went for a ride outside the city walls with her father, brothers, half-sister Arya, and good-sister Tyene. The direwolves came with them, eager for a run beyond the confines of the city. Sansa had chosen to remain inside, as she didn't enjoy riding. She watched her brothers all race one another, and Arya chasing after them. Arya and Lucas were still the worst riders, but they were also the youngest and would improve with time. It felt good to be out of the city, and to be riding.

So much had changed in so short a span of time, being on a horse made life feel simpler again. When they were a few miles from the city, her father reigned up beside her and they slowed to a trot beside one another. The rest of the family was ahead of them, still galloping across the fields with the wolves.

"We should speak," he began.

She considered him curiously. "Have we not been speaking?"

He sighed. "I believe that you know what I mean. I know what your mother told you regarding Jon."

She pressed her lips together for several moments before speaking. "You know the most difficult part of knowing the secrets my mother told me?" She turned to him, angry. "She had raised me to see you as a hero. She raised all of us to see you as a myth or legend. Perhaps I'm angry because I cannot understand the man you are. I cannot understand how my uncle could be the one to bring you and my mother together and then you would be the one to slay him. I cannot understand how she would lie with you again after learning the truth. And I cannot understand why I wasn't angry with you for keeping us from you. And Jon, I wonder how long I will be able to stop myself from telling him the truth. He deserves to know. He knows something is wrong with me, they all know. Thankfully Ty takes up most of Jon's free time. And I am not foolish enough to endanger our lives by speaking a word of this within the city, but Jon does deserve to know."

Her words ended, she turned from him and looked across the landscape, bringing her horse to a stop. He was quiet for a long time before responding. "I know this will not make anything easier, but I never intended for any of this to happen. Learning about your birth was one joy in the midst of all the sorrows of the war." He smiled fleetingly at her, which she reciprocated. "Your mother and I have had a very complicated past, and nothing about it is easy to explain, nor does it matter at this point. I agree with you that Jon should know, but consider what you ask. Would it make Jon's life easier for him to know?"

She watched Jon as he rode beside Tyene, his wife. They were laughing together. Robb slowed, making sure that Lucas and Arya were keeping up. "No," she said quietly. "But if I could add up the months and realize that Jon's birth was impossible, then so can someone else." She looked up at him, weary and sad. "Have you thought of a lie for that?"

He ran a hand through his beard. "No, we never considered that possibility until now. I will have a discussion with your mother about it."

They were quiet for several minutes before she spoke again. "Would the King truly execute us all if he knew that Jon wasn't who we say he is? Jon saved his life. You put him on the throne."

"The King is going to war against his own brother soon enough. I wouldn't hedge my bets with anyone who wears a crown. Kings forget friends and family soon enough when they are comfortable in their reigns."

"Then the lie must be a good one, or the kingdoms will war again. If the King ever learns, and he is wed to Arianne and Quentyn is wed to Margaery Tyrell..."

"Then the war which was just fought against the Lannisters will seem as nothing. Pray that the secret dies with those who know, and that we may all live at peace."

She looked at Jon again, and how he rode with their siblings and his wife. "I will keep the secret." No matter that Jon might in truth be her cousin, he was still her brother in every way that mattered. She could keep the lie to protect him, to keep her brother safe. She looked at Arthur, laughing with Robb and Arya. "They're happy."

"Are you?"

She looked at her father again and laughed. "Most days. Life has been harder since you came south, though I suppose that is true for you as well. But I met you and my sisters, and Robb; I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world."

He smiled at her. "I wouldn't trade the time I have spent with the four of you for anything in this world either. I am sorry that I never sent for you. I will regret it for the rest of my life."

She bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears. "We'll be separated again though, won't we? If you return to Winterfell we won't be able to come."

He considered her with care, his expression unreadable. "You can come if I allow it."

She gasped. "But, you never have, and your wife..."

"My wife and I will have much to discuss before I can make any certain plans, and I will have to speak with your mother, but if I wish to invite my children to Winterfell no one will be able to defy that order."

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly, shocked. After a few moments, she regained her voice. "Do you truly mean that?"

He nodded solemnly. "I do. I want to spend more time with each of you. Last I saw the three of you, none of you were higher than my knees. Now, Jon's a married man, you're a grown woman, and Arthur is in a betrothal he would rather not have. And my eldest three sons are now men of war."

"Why betroth Arthur to little Myrcella?"

He sighed. "To control the Lannisters. If the King has his way, he will chose matches for every Lannister hostage we have just to ensure the loyalty of their House. He holds most of their heirs. The former princess deserves a good life, her parents sins should not be held above her head. By betrothing her to Arthur, she will be safe, and the crown will hold sway over Tyrion Lannister's nearest kin."

"Are we all just pieces in a game then? Every one of us to be traded on best intentions to a greater cause?"

His expression was grim when he looked at her. "Yes, though I thought your mother would have taught you that."

She laughed, a bit sardonic. "There are a good many things which my mother should have taught us, but she didn't. She has always preferred to live in the present rather than planning for the future. Some days I think that she believes we're still little children."

"I can hardly blame her for seeing you as children, every one of you is growing too fast. Soon you will all be married and have children of your own. Very likely all of your matches will be arranged for political reason as mine own was."

"Will I?" She considered him carefully. "Do you have a match picked out for me as well?"

"No, I don't. Choosing Tyene for Jon was as much Oberyn's doing as it was mine, and choosing Arthur's match was as much political as it was to protect young Myrcella. Sansa's former betrothal to Joffrey Hill was a match of politics. As for the rest of you, matches will be made when the time is right."

"When the highest bidder makes an offer?" Her voice was tinged with grim humor.

He gave her a wry smile. "Something like that. Unlike your brothers, as our situation is less dire and you are of age, you will be involved in the process of choosing your match."

"Oh, I'm sure Arthur will be thrilled to learn that. He'll claim that I am being shown favoritism."

"You could always avoid telling him that you will be allowed a choice."

She laughed. "Will I always have a choice? What if the war strikes up again, and it's convenient for you to marry me off?"

His smile was shrewd. "Choose swiftly then. The King's wedding is in a few weeks, and you will be a guest. I've already had lords who are showing interest in my wife's children. When they see you, I'm sure that more than a few lords will ask for your hand."

"You think that lords will want a bastard's hand?"

"Such things have happened before. Your birth may be illegitimate but your mother and I are both well born. Your bloodline is among the best that can be offered trueborn or not. You are well educated, beautiful, and are brilliantly smart. Not to mention that your dowry will be the same as Sansa and Arya's."

She gaped at him again. "The same? But, but..."

"But they are your sisters, and you are of no less value to me than they." She sobbed quietly, shocked. "You are my daughter, my firstborn. I may have held Jon first, but you are the first child of mine that I ever saw, ever held. I knew then that if I could give each of you the world that I would." He reached to her and brushed away her tears. "And though I may have failed you before, I want to make a new start with each of you if I can."

Laughing through her tears, she shook her head in agreement. "I think that anything is possible."

He smiled at her. "Shall we go catch up to the rest of them?"

"Yes, I think we should."

* * *

Two days after Ned went riding with the children, he met with Ashara. It was late in the afternoon when they met, upon the same terrace where he had met with Oberyn to discuss Cersei's children. Ned's children, except for Sansa, Oberyn's older girls, and Edric Dayne were in the training yard. The noise of the sparring would keep quiet any discussions which he and Ashara might have. His guards would prevent anyone from drawing near them. And they would be easily seen by any prying eyes. The diversion was as good as any he could improvise and stay true to his promises that he would not be seen with Ashara in a compromising place. She arrived some time after he had and was greeted coolly by his guards.

Her gown fluttered as she sat across from him. Her dress was white, trimmed with vibrantly colored embroidered flowers. He was amazed, once again, by how lovely she was.

"You wanted us to meet in a public place where we might speak privately." She looked out at the yard. "And yet we meet in plain sight of all your children, and Oberyn's girls."

"I have had a lot on my mind lately, and I want to avoid any unwarranted gossip."

"Unwarranted gossip about us?" Her voice teased. "I hardly think that any meeting between us will cause unwarranted gossip. Clearly we are only meeting with regards to our children, nothing more. It must be hard work managing seven children and assisting as Hand of the King. I must say, the children all seem happier for it, even Alys who scarcely smiled since Blackhaven seems to have lifted in spirits since you went riding with her."

"She and I had a long conversation during our ride."

"Which went well I assume."

"It did, and she brought up a very important point which I need to discuss with you."

"And that would be?"

"A strategic lie."

He looked out at their children in the yard, Alysanne and Tyene were both showing Arya how to hold a bow. Edric and Lucas were sparring beside Robb and Obara. Meanwhile, Elia was showing off her skills with a spear to Jon and Arthur. "If Alysanne can add up the months between my eldest three sons, then so can someone else. We need a second story if anyone finds the holes in the first."

She tilted her head slightly, pondering. "Have you devised a tale Ned?"

"If anyone isn't satisfied that Jon is mine, we will claim that he is my brother Brandon's."

"Brandon's? He was dead long before..."

"We can say that he is older than we have claimed, say that he is of age with Alysanne. Brandon had a few liaisons, including at Harrenhal, any of which could have left a bastard. If we say that the mother died, and that his caretakers found me when I was in the Stormlands at the end of the war, who would dispute it? Did the servants at Starfall truly account for Jon's age when he arrived?"

He watched her consider all the possibilities in her mind. "No, no one would know the difference." She sighed heavily. "It's a reasonable lie and no one would be able to dispute it. I can easily say that I took him in so that his life would be simpler, it's close enough to the truth." She placed her head in her hands, weary. "May we never need to tell the lie or the truth."

"That is my greatest hope."

She looked up, smiling lightly. "Was this all you wished to discuss Ned?"

He knew there was more. He knew what he needed to tell her and to tell Catelyn. He had thought of little else for many days, though he wondered what the consequences would be.

"I am planning to resign my position here within the next few months. The King is well aware of this and so is Catelyn. Afterward, I will be returning to Winterfell. I want your children to accompany me."

She stared at him, her mouth agape. "Truly? But, for how long? Will you take all of them?"

"I will take them all if they are all willing, and I doubt that Jon will be able to leave the King's service for longer than a year if he chooses to go."

"But." She placed a hand upon her chest, looking panicked. "You'll take them all from me?"

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "I thought that you wanted me to spend time with them? To take them to Winterfell?"

"I... I did, but... to take them all? I... I'll be all alone."

Sympathetic, he softened his expression. "I am not demanding their departure, only asking that they come north and see their father's home."

"Do they know yet? Did your wife approve?"

"No, you are the first person I have told."

Her countenance darkened. "And will she allow your children north? Will she allow them to be welcomed in your home?"

His expression hard, he could think of only one answer. "Catelyn will not be thrilled with my wishes, but she will allow it."

Ashara stood, angry and disgusted. "Of course she will Ned. It's not like you are giving her an option."

"What would you have me do?" First she had wanted him to take the children and now she was angry that he wanted them to come to Winterfell.

She threw up her hands, which attracted the gaze of the children. "I don't know Ned. I don't know what I want or expect from you. Tell the children that you want them to join you in the North. Ask the King for Jon's leave to join you. I don't care anymore Ned. It seems that you will do as you will no matter what anyone else desires." With that, she turned and left the courtyard. The children looked to him with questioning expressions. He would tell Ashara's children next, and hoped that their reactions would be better. In the evening, he would tell Catelyn, which he expected to go even worse than his meeting with Ashara.

* * *

In the evening, Catelyn sat in the Hand's solar, writing letters after dinner. Ned joined her shortly after she arrived. He had been quietly brooding during their meal, and they had not yet had time to speak on whatever matter was bothering him. His bastards had not appeared in the Tower that day, having spent much of it out of doors with Catelyn's own children. She was growing used to their appearing in the Tower, and they had been courteous enough to never be seen by her. She watched as Ned settled himself into the large chair behind the Hand's desk. He seemed far wearier than she had seen him in some time.

"You spoke with Lady Ashara for quite some time today," she began, her voice inquiring.

"To her, and to the children. I have been thinking for quite some time about the future. We will leave in a few months, after the wedding and coronation."

"You have said as much before." She considered him with some trepidation.

"I would like for Lady Ashara's children to accompany us to Winterfell and to remain there for a year."

Catelyn felt gutted, though she couldn't say that she was surprised. She breathed deeply, knowing that she had only one reply to give. Her voice was toneless as she spoke. "As you will, my lord."

"Cat." His voice and eyes were pleading with her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I am your wife, and most days I do love you. I am glad that you honored me by never bringing your bastards to Winterfell. I respect that you want to know them. Ned, that makes you a good man, a good father. But when I see them, when I think of them, all that I see is your betrayal. I was raised to expect my husband to have bastards when he was away at war."

She stood, pacing. "When you told me of your firstborn, I understood. I was betrothed to Brandon when she was conceived. That you managed to have two other bastards with that woman during the war, and still marry me..."

She was shaking, her emotions raw. "I felt a pawn in the matter, but I had known that from the start. You needed my father's allegiance to the war. I thought that you would send for her, keep her as a mistress, but you didn't. I felt safe with Robb and Sansa, two healthy heirs. I felt sure that you would stay loyal to me, that whatever had transpired between you and Ashara Dayne was in the past. Then you left when I was nearly to term with Arya to fight a war for Robert Baratheon. You told me nothing of visiting Starfall when you returned home and soon I was with child again. I loved you then, until I found those letters about a child who had been born whose paternity was questionable. A boy who is only seven months older than Bran."

She turned to face him, cold with fury. "Can you imagine how that felt? Can you imagine how it feels to be betrayed by someone you love? To know that while I nursed our daughter you travelled all the way to Dorne and took your lover to bed? That you hid that secret from me and only told me because I had discovered the truth? That I still lie awake at night wondering how many secrets you have kept from me, how many lies you have told?"

His eyes fell from her to the table. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Only one lie."

"One," she snapped. "Only one?"

His eyes were distant, as far away as Winterfell. "I cannot speak it, but I can write it," he said eventually.

She sighed. "If that is your wish."

He picked up a parchment, spreading it out before him, then he picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell. He wrote slowly, etching out the words with pain while she paced the room.

When he finished, he turned the paper toward her. She sat to read it.

_My dearest Cat,_

_I do not deserve your love. I never have. If you refuse me from this day forth it will scarcely be undeserved. Lies of omission I have discovered are easier to tell than any other. In seeking to avoid hurting you, I have only hurt you more. No apologies or words will ever amend the wrongs I have committed against you. There is only one lie for me to confess, and after I have done so, it still must remain a secret. When Robert's Rebellion was at an end I came to a tower in the Dornish Marches where my sister Lyanna was held. Arthur Dayne was one of her guards, and I slew him in combat. I found Lyanna in the tower, dying. As she died she made me swear a promise, which I have failed time and again to fulfill. That promise was to protect her son, Jon. We travelled to Starfall afterward so that I might return Dawn to its rightful place. It was then and there that I learned I had a daughter, and where Ashara agreed to claim Jon as her own. For his safety, for the sake of Ser Arthur, she agreed to keep him. To my shame, my son Arthur is a result of that stay at Starfall._

_I should have told you, so many times, that he is my nephew, but I couldn't. I worried for your safety if Robert ever learned the truth. I felt it easier to ignore the unpleasant truths than to ever speak them aloud. I spoke with Ashara today of a lie for the boy, should anyone question the time of his birth. We have agreed to claim that he is older than he is, and that he is the son of my brother Brandon with another woman. The lie is imperfect, but it is also impossible for anyone to disprove. If we should talk on these matters, it must be where no ears may overhear. I do not trust speaking these secrets within the wall of these buildings._

When she finished reading, angry tears upon her cheeks, she stood and threw the parchment into the fireplace where it melted into flame and ash. Speechless and hollow, she left the room. She walked to her bedchamber and barred the door behind her.


	23. The Stag and the Sun Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for everything, as always!

Arya Stark walked to the outer courtyard behind her parents, Robb, and Sansa. There they joined the masses of nobles and courtiers who were travelling to the Sept of Baelor for the wedding of King Renly Baratheon to Princess Arianne Martell. Some were riding to the Sept while others were travelling in carriages and litters, still others were walking, though they had already departed.

Arya wanted to ride, instead she entered the litter with her mother and sister while her father and brother rode. The curtains of the litter were open as they made their way from the Red Keep toward the city. Arya was glad of the breeze, and that her dress was still one of the Dornish gowns she had been given in Dorne. The heat of the day was suffocating, and the thin blue gown was wonderfully relieving. Sansa's gown was also one of her Dornish dresses, yellow and bright like the sun, patterned with green and purple threads.

Arya, Sansa, Robb, and their half-siblings all wore silver pendants which their father had given them. He had given them all silver wolves and steel daggers. The daggers bore two emblems, a wolf and a trout for his trueborn children and a wolf and a star for his bastards. The eyes of the pendants were amethysts for the bastards and sapphires for the trueborn children. Arya loved her gifts, and knew that her brothers and sisters love them all as well.

Mother wore her green gown again, with a white corset, a gold belt, and gold necklaces. She was also sad, as she had been for a few weeks. Arya wondered what was wrong between her parents. They seldom ever fought, and even when they had all was usually quickly amended. Now, nothing seemed to make them happy. She wondered if Lady Ashara was to blame, but Alys and her brothers seemed to think their mother was also not getting along with father. Was it because father had promised Lady Ashara’s children that they could come to Winterfell?

Sansa chattered happily along the way about the wedding and the feast that was to follow. Arya and other children of the court would only be attending the feast for the few hours, long enough to eat and see some of the entertainment, but miss all of the dancing and whatever else adults did at feasts. Sansa, Robb, Alysanne, Arthur, Edric, and Jon would all attend the entire affair. Lucas would leave when Arya left. Arya was glad that she would have him as a companion for the rest of the evening instead of being alone. She was also happy that Jeyne Poole wasn't attending the feast at all.

When they arrived, they were escorted into the large septry, and positioned near the front of the masses of attendees. The Sept was beautiful. The colored glass of the windows showered rainbows of light upon everyone in the room.

When everyone was settled into their positions, the King and his guards stepped to the front of the room, onto the platform at the front. The High Septon stood with them, prepared to perform the ceremony.

A hush fell upon the crowd as Princess Arianne Martell entered the room. The jewels she wore glittered as she moved. Her burnt orange gown caressed the floor as she walked. Her entire bodice was covered in an intricate web of gold and jewels, winding their way to her neck. Upon her back she wore her silk maiden’s cloak bearing the pierced sun of House Martell.

The Princess smiled beautifully, awing the crowd. There was no hesitation or fear in her steps, only confident duty. She was given to King Renly by her brother, Prince Quentyn. She and the King smiled at one another as they said their vows, but Arya didn't think they loved one another. Jon and Tyene had been practically glowing as they wed. Did her parents smile as they married? Would Arya marry someone who could truly make her smile?

The ceremony progressed slowly. Jon’s had felt faster for some reason. They said the seven vows, invoked the seven blessings, and exchanged the seven promises. Afterward, the wedding song was sung and the challenge given and unanswered. Quentyn then removed his sister’s maiden’s cloak. Renly accepted the new cloak from Jon, who stood beside him. He tenderly placed the cloak bearing the crowned stag of House Baratheon upon her shoulders, clasping it. They pledged their love and kissed to cheers. The ceremony done, they departed from the Sept, followed by the crowds. Every guest formed a long queue to leave the Sept, kissing the hand of the King and his new wife as they parted.

Arya was glad when they made it back into their litter, the crowds had been suffocating within the Sept. She had taken to playing with the silver pendant in her boredom throughout the ceremony.

* * *

Lady Catelyn Stark sipped her wine as the first dance of the evening was performed. All of the women of from Dorne stepped into the center of the room, forming a circle around Arianne Martell. Sansa joined them, having learned the dance over the course of the preceding weeks. Catelyn could scarcely refuse her daughter’s request to learn a dance to celebrate the wedding of the King to his Queen, and so she had willingly allowed her daughter to learn the Dornish dances.

The women formed two circles, winding between one another. As they twirled on the floor, the Dornish men approached the circle; each of them were pulled, one by one, into the dance. The King stood outside the circle, each of the dancers refusing him entry, laughing. It was a game, Catelyn realized, the dancers were keeping the newlyweds apart. At times, the women would allow one of the men into the circle to dance with Arianne, but after a few turns, she would push each of them back to the women who would in turn push the man out of the dancing circles. Slowly, more men joined the dance.

Catelyn laughed as she watched the dance, and so did most of the other onlookers. She turned to her brother who was seated beside her. “You should join the dancers.”

“I have no idea how to do this dance.”

“I don’t think that most of the men outside of Dorne do either, still they have joined. I think that it’s a game. The King’s goal is to reach the center, and the other dancers are trying to keep him out of the circle.” She gave him a wry smile. “Besides which, you should spend the evening seeing if any of the women here catches your eye.  Our father’s health is failing and you will soon enough be Lord of Riverrun, and in need of a wife. There are a thousand guests here and well over a hundred eligible women.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need lecture on my duties.”

“Don’t you? At your age I was already wed, and a mother.”

He brooded over his goblet, sipping it slowly. “Fine, I’ll go search for a bride if that will make you happy.”

She laid a gentle hand upon his forearm. “What will make me happy is for you to find happiness in another.”

He lowered his voice, glaring at Ned who was seated to the other side of her. “As you have?”

She returned his glare. “Leave it alone.”

He drained his goblet, and stood. “As you wish Cat.” He walked from the table and joined the dancers.

She clasped her hands together beneath the table. She needed to speak with Ned, but every time she looked at him, cold fury bubbled up within her. How could he have lied to her for so many years? Lied to her and yet... She could see Ashara Dayne amidst the dancers, and hated how angry that woman’s presence made her. Ned had trusted this woman with his bastard nephew and lied to her for well over a decade.

She forced herself to watch Sansa. Her daughter was happy, laughing and twirling with the other dancers. She noticed that Alysanne Sand was near Sansa. Catelyn had yet to pay much attention to any of Ned’s bastards, both she and they had chosen to avoid one another as much as possible. Young Alysanne looked a bit like Ned, though she favored her mother. She wore the wolf pendant which Ned had given her, as all of Ned’s children had that day. Whatever else Catelyn might think of Ned, she knew that he loved his children, and they all seemed to love him as well.

Renly Baratheon had finally been allowed into the circle of dancers when Prince Oberyn Martell appeared in front of their table. He stood to the side so that he didn’t obscure their view of the dancers. “Are you enjoying the dance, Lord and Lady Stark?”

“It’s entertaining,” said Ned.

Catelyn laughed. “It’s quite clever, though I do admit that I don’t fully understand the dance.”

Oberyn grinned. “It’s a game, an ancient one from the Rhoyne. Arianne is in the place of the mother goddess, the women are her water spirits. They bring men to her, seeking to find one worthy to be her consort that they might bring forth the spring floods and new life. She rejects them until her true love arrives and she keeps him. But he must learn how to navigate his way to her or the water spirits will prevent his entry.”

Catelyn raised a brow. “An ancient Rhoynish marriage game, about the faith of the Rhoynar, played by those wed under the Light of the Seven?”

He laughed. “I promise not to tell the High Septon.” Catelyn and Ned both smiled at his comments and they continued to watch the dance. A few moments later, Arianne seemed startled by her companion in the dance, and she spun with him for longer than she had with the other dancers. Oberyn tensed watching them, and Catelyn wondered why. The man was young, handsome, with sandy-brown hair, and dimples on his cheeks. The Dornish Prince still seemed tense when the young man left the Queen’s arms and moved back through the circles of dancers.

Catelyn looked at Oberyn, curious. “Does that young man trouble you, Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn’s smile was harsh. “He is one of my squires, Ser Daemon Sand of Godsgrace, and I feel that he needs reminded of his position. If you will excuse me?” He bowed to them swiftly before he stalked into the crowds.

At last, the King found his way to his Queen, and they spun in the circle. The women broke apart, each of them reaching for a partner amongst the men who had been rejected from the circle. The music slowly came to a crescendo and then reached its conclusion. The dancers all bowed to one another and then arranged themselves for the next dance as the music began again.

Ned looked to her. “Cat?”

She considered him neutrally, the wine and merriment of the evening making her charitable. “Yes Ned?”

“Would you like to dance?”

He held a hand to her, a gesture of peace. His seemingly neutral expression belied the pleading of his eyes. She pressed her lips together, still angry with him, but she also missed him. She also knew that it would look better in the eyes of the guests if they danced together. She placed her hand in his. “I will gladly dance with you, my lord.”

The dancers arranged themselves in rows, men on one side and women on the other.  As the dance progressed, the men would move down the line, and upon reaching the end of the line, walk to the start. The dance would end when everyone was back to their original partner, at least in theory, as pairs at times were known to leave the lines during the dance.

Catelyn began the dance with Ned. His soft smiles as they danced encouraged her to smile. They switched partners after a few moments, not speaking a word to one another. The swirl of partners was at times dizzying, she felt as though she danced with all the Seven Kingdoms as the line passed. Eventually she found herself partnered with Petyr Baelish, her childhood friend, and the man who had spread unseemly rumors about her throughout the Red Keep some years past.

“Cat,” he greeted. “You look lovely as ever.”

She favored him with a warm smile. “Thank you Petyr.”

“I’ve heard rumors that you will be returning to Winterfell soon.”

“Soon enough,” she replied. “I have been away from my youngest children for far too long.”

“Have you solved the mystery of the assassin who was sent after your son?”

“No, it seems that we may never know who performed such a fell deed.” She misliked his expression as he offered her his sympathy. Something about his smirking lips caused her skin to crawl. A moment later, the music changed and he moved to the next partner.

* * *

Further down the line of dancers, Ashara Dayne began the dance with Ned Stark. She felt as though a hundred pairs of eyes bore down upon her as his hands met hers. She smiled at him. Her initial anger at his desire to take her children to Winterfell had subsided. She knew that she should be glad that he wanted to spend time with the children, but she would miss their company. She had never been parted from all of her children for any length of time.

“They look at us,” she stated simply.

“You would think they would tire of gaping at us.”

She laughed as he spun her. “Oh, why ever would they do that?” She paused, smiling at him. “Do you remember the first time we danced?”

He gave her a small smile. “At Harrenhal, to a similar dance.”

She laughed again. “Fewer whispered then.”

“They had less reason to.” They spun once more before the partners switched.

* * *

Alysanne Sand laughed throughout most of the dances. She flirted with some of her partners, and with others she simply smiled. She couldn’t recall ever having so much fun before in her life. The wedding had been beautiful. The feast had been extravagant, and the dances were delightful. She released the hands of a knight of the Reach and joined her hands to a man with red hair and strikingly blue eyes. She giggled in surprised, realizing that it was Edmure Tully who held her hands.

“My lady, you are lovely,” he said in greeting. “I am Edmure Tully.”

“Alysanne,” she replied. “I thank you for the compliment.”

“My words were not in vain, I assure you. I have never seen violet eyes before, they are quite remarkable.”

She wanted to roll her pretty eyes with how many comments she had received upon that one trait. “Why that you, Lord Edmure, I share the trait with my mother, the Lady Ashara Dayne.”

His countenance changed remarkably at her words. His pretty smile evaporated and he became a paragon of stoic virtue. “A pleasure to meet you, Mistress Alysanne,” he said in neutral tones.

“And you, Lord Edmure,” she replied, bending to him politely as he moved from her.

She danced with three more partners before she was paired with a tall, dark-haired young man, whose face seemed to permanently smirk. “I believe I have seen you before,” he said in greeting.

“Have you? I must say that it is entirely possible, I have been here for weeks.”

“I’m Theon Greyjoy.”

“Alys.” She favored him with a smile as he spun her.

“Would you care to have a drink with me, Alys?”

It couldn’t hurt to have a drink with the heir to the Iron Islands. And she was truly in need of something to drink. “Aye, why not?”

His smile broadened, and walked with her from the line before she could be passed to a new partner. He took her gently by the arm and led her away from the dancers to the lines of servers who passed them goblets of wine. Though it wasn’t ladylike, she drained the glass in a few swallows and had one of the servants refill her goblet from the carafe he held.

Then they walked to the perimeter of the room, away from the crowds. “You are a talented dancer,” he told her kindly.

“I’ve been learning to dance since I could walk, especially the wedding dance. In Dorne, even the children join in the celebration.”

“I must admit, I’ve never seen a dance like that before.”

She laughed. “Perhaps it will gain popularity in the rest of Westeros now that it has been danced at the wedding of the King?”

He grinned at her. “Maybe it will. I have heard so many tales of Dorne, but none from a Dornish woman, what is it like?”

“Dorne?” She giggled, thinking his question strange. “It’s my home, I...” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Some places in the south, along the coast, you can watch the sun rise and set over the seas. The days are hot, though not like here. The air is thick here and it sticks to your skin, there the air is dry. At night the air is cold, enough to chill you. If you ever visit Dorne, you should visit the Water Gardens, they’re beautiful.”

He drew closer to her, moving his hand from her arm to the small of her back. “As beautiful as you?”

She rolled her eyes before titling her head so that she might look at him. “Moreso, I think.”

“Surely that cannot be. Beauties such as you are rare.”

She smiled sweetly at him, though his flatteries were far from the first she had heard that day. “Thank you.”

He continued to walk with her, flattering her and flirting with her. She willingly flirted back, though she found him to be rather tiresome. He was leading her to a more secluded corner of the room when a voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Leave her alone Greyjoy,” a voice growled behind them. Alys and Theon turned to see Robb standing there, his face set like stone.

“What's it to you, Stark. You know how Dornish girls are.”

She pulled away from him, furious. “How Dornish girls are? What's that supposed to mean?”

“Who cares what he meant,” Robb spat. He turned from Alys to Theon. “She isn't yours to touch.”

His smirk was condescending. “Why, is she yours?”

Robb’s voice was utterly cold as he replied. “She's my sister.”

Theon stepped back and looked between them, confused. “Sister?”

“Alysanne Sand,” she said. “Lord Stark’s bastard daughter.” He blanched, finally seeing that she and Robb wore matching pendants. He bobbed his head to her while he mumbled his pardons and darted away. Alys looked to Robb, a brow raised. “You didn’t have to come to my defense.”

He smiled lightly at her. “You’re my sister, I have a duty to protect you, especially from Theon.”

She considered her half-brother and the retreating form of Theon Greyjoy for a few moments. “He was raised at Winterfell with you, correct?”

“Yes, which is why I know to keep him away from you.”

“He wouldn’t have gotten anything from me. I merely wanted a break from dancing and he provided a distraction.”

“He would have tried to get more from you.”

“More than what? Playful banter and friendly smiles are all he would have gotten.”

“I... I’m sorry.”

“What? Do you assume that all Dornish girls are promiscuous? Dorne may have a higher view of bastards, and fewer qualms about taking lovers, but we are hardly all lewd. Most noblewomen are just as virtuous in Dorne as they are in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.” She shook her head, annoyed. “I’ve never even kissed.”

Abashed, he hung his head. “I am sorry, truly. It’s easy to presume many things about a people without knowing the truth.”

She raised a brow, still agitated. “What did you presume about me?”

“Nothing about you, just about Dorne. Stories of your region’s temperaments towards many things may have been exaggerated by the time they reached my ears or Theon’s.”

She considered him circumspectly. “I suppose that you are forgiven then.”

“You don’t sound entirely convinced of my explanation.”

“I’m not, but I don’t believe that you meant any harm. You did gallantly rescue me from Theon Greyjoy.”

He grinned. “I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

“Yes, though it would appear that my full brothers are not as attentive as you.” She looked out across the vast, cavernous hall of the throne room and found that she couldn’t see either of her brothers in the crowds. She did manage to see Sansa, dancing with Ser Garlan Tyrell. “Though I don’t blame them. There are so many people here, so many things to do and see. Are you enjoying the night?”

“I am, though father reminded me continually of how important this day is for our prestige.”

“You too? Both father and my mother kept reminding me that this is a good time for me to present myself before the lords of the land so that they might make offers for my hand.”

“Sansa was told the same.”

“Was Arya?”

Robb burst out laughing. “No, she would have behaved abominably if she was told.”

Alys laughed with him. “Oh can you even imagine?”

“She’d attempt to ruin any chance she has at a match.”

“Well, she is only ten. At worst she would be seen as a troublesome girl.”

“Very true.” He sighed, looking out across the crowds with her. “Life is so strange.”

“Indeed, a year ago our father was on his way here to serve as Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon, and we had never met. Now, we’re guests at the wedding of our new King and Queen, our country has seen a small war, and Jon is married.”

“Though the circumstances were grim I am glad that it led to our meeting. It’s nice to finally know my half-sister and half-brothers, I know that Sansa and Arya feel the same.”

“I feel the same as well. I’m happy that father invited us to Winterfell, it will be nice to see your home. Perhaps one day you will come to Starfall, it’s beautiful.”

“I would like that,” he replied, seeming pleased with the idea.

They found an abandoned bench and sat together, watching the dancers. When the partner switching dance came to an end, a slower dance began. The men and women formed pairs throughout the room, pressing their palms together as they moved their feet to the dance. Alysanne noticed quite a curious sight as her eyes scanned the crowds, two very tall individuals were dancing with one another. She recognized the woman as Lady Brienne of Tarth, one of the King’s personal guard, and the woman who had saved Jon’s life in the war. Brienne had trained with the female fighters from Dorne and the North more than once. She knew the man was Northern, but she didn’t know who he was.

“Do you know the man who is dancing with Lady Brienne?” She motioned to the pair when Robb seemed confused.

“Smalljon Umber, he’s the heir of Last Hearth.” They watched the pair with fascination. Both Brienne and Jon were smiling as they danced, genuine interest showing in both of their expressions. “I think they like one another.”

The Heir of Last Hearth whispered in the ear of the Heiress of Tarth, causing a blush to spread from her cheeks to her ears even as she smiled at him. “I am inclined to agree with you.” She grinned at Robb. “It would seem that Northern and Southern relations are improving markedly of late.”

He burst out laughing. When he quieted, his reply was more serious. “I’ve heard that there have been some fights between some men from the Reach and from Dorne.”

She shrugged dismissively. “We’ve been fighting one another for over a thousand years. Starfall and Oldtown have sacked one another hundreds of times, though not since Dorne joined the Seven Kingdoms. You may as well ask for peace between the Blackwoods and Brackens as ask for peace between the border lords of the Reach, Stormlands, and Dorne.”

“How does that bode for the impending marriage of Lady Margaery Tyrell to Prince Quentyn Martell?”

“She will be welcomed as our lady, though I am certain that some will make her transition difficult. When she births young princes and princesses, she will be loved well enough.”

“I suppose that you are right.” They watched the various pairs again, spotting friends and family amongst the dancers. “Does it bother you that I stopped Theon from talking to you?”

She laughed. “No, I was growing tired of him. Oberyn tells me that I am much like my mother, smiling and flirting with men but never giving them anything.” She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth as he looked at her with surprise. “I’m so sorry, I forgot.”

“Forgot who I am?”

She cringed as she let out a short, awkward laugh. “Yes, actually. I, I just feel comfortable with you and Sansa and Arya.”

“I’m not offended and I am glad that you feel comfortable with us. I feel the same.” He grinned at her, which she returned.

“I just hope that everything becomes less awkward with time.”

“I hope so as well.” A few moments later he stood and held out his hand to her. “Would you like to dance?”

She put her hand in his. “I would love to.”

Alys and Robb joined the many pairs of dancers in the center of the room. As they moved, Alysanne spied everyone she knew, except for her brother Arthur. She searched the room for him, but realized that her brother was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Arthur Sand escaped from the feast shortly after the wedding dance was finished. He felt trapped with so many people in that room. In the warm evening air, he felt more at ease. He was halfway across the outer courtyard when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He stopped and turned to see Bella walking toward him from the castle kitchens.

“What were you doing over here?”

She smiled as she reached him and they resumed their walk to the Maidenvault. “Celebrating the wedding of the King with all the other servants. When the courses of the meal finished amongst the nobles, the servants of the castle were allowed to eat. The food was wonderful, duck, lamb, tuna, Dornish food which burned the tongue.”

He laughed. “I’m glad that you were able to share in the feast.”

“It was nice, though I am glad to return to my nook for the evening.”

“Your nook,” he frowned. “Why don’t you stay with me again? You haven’t slept beside me often since my mother arrived.”

“Your mother can remove me from the household, and she worries over the image put forth by her family.”

“My mother has four bastards. The family already has a certain image.”

She pursed her lips, troubled. “You dislike your mother for having bastards?”

“No!” He nearly shouted the word, so swift was his reply. “I only wish to be treated with equity. My brother took Tyene as a lover and no one said a word. I brought you into the household to protect you and suddenly I am being told what I can and cannot do.”

She cocked her head as she looked at him. Her voice was playful as she spoke. “What would you like to do?”

He felt his neck flush, burning red. “I... I don’t rightly know, but I do know that I want to be treated the same as my brothers and sister.”

“Mistress Alysanne seems to be quite the virtuous young woman, so I daresay you are treated as she is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course Alys is virtuous, she wants to fall in love and marry for love. She’s nearly ten and seven and she still hasn’t kissed anyone.”

“Do you scorn her choice? Or doubt that true love is real?”

He shook his head. “No, but our mother wanted to marry for love, and look where she is, four bastards.”

“And chief lady in waiting to the Queen of Westeros,” Bella rebutted. “Can’t complain much there.”

“She should have had more. Jon was lucky, he got to marry the girl he loves, but I will be forced to marry an incest bred bastard whom I haven’t even met.”

“You should be glad that your father has seen fit to choose a spouse for you. Some bastards have nothing, or they’re like me and are born to a whore.”

“What if I would rather have you?” He blurted out the question before he could think.

She looked at him, at once both happy and melancholy. They stopped, and she ran gentle fingers through his hair. “You can’t marry me.”

He rested his hands upon her shoulders, tenderly caressing her. “I know, but I also cannot wed the Lannister bastard for years either, she’s only nine. Until then, and maybe after, why can’t I love you?” His heart dropped, suddenly unsure. “Unless you don’t feel anything for me?”

She considered him, mixed emotions playing on her face. She took far longer to reply than he found comfortable. “I care for you Arthur, but I’ve never been cared for by a man before. I’ve had dozens of men touch me but none of them in love or kindness. I don’t know what I want or feel. My body has never been my own to give, nor my heart.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

She smiled sweetly. “I didn’t think you would. You have a good heart Arthur, and I know that you care for me. But I must also consider my position and safety. Should your affections wane I will have nothing, less than I had at the start and worse should my care for you deepen.”

“What if I give you my winnings from the Tournament of the Hand, I’ve scarcely spent any of it. It could be yours. I can even have it written as a contract, witnessed by my mother and uncle and whomever else you’d wish. That way you would have safety, money which is yours and yours alone to go with you if ever you leave. I will never send you away, but should you wish to leave at any time you would be free to go anywhere you desired.”

She stared at him for a long time, both startled and contemplating. “There would be no expectation or obligation attached to this gift?”

“None. You helped save my brother’s life and you’ve helped me through everything I saw in that battle. I want you to feel safe, to be safe.”

Bereft of words, tears began to flow down her cheeks. She laid her head upon his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. When she pulled away again, she smoothed her hair and wiped away her tears. “I can never repay you for the kindness you show me.”

“You don’t owe me or anyone else anything just because we are nice to you. All you owe anyone when they are kind is a thank you.”

She laughed, overwhelmed. “Thank you then, Arthur, for everything.” She reached for his hand and held it. “But you’ve told me that you care for me and that you want me. I must admit, I would like to know what it is like to be shown affection by a man who truly cares.”

His cheeks burning again, Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt frozen, wanting to touch her, to kiss her, but unable to do anything now that she agreed. However, she was more adept at handling the situation. She drew near to him and pressed her lips against his own. He had kissed before, two different serving girls in Dorne, but while he had enjoyed kissing them, kissing Bella made him feel alive. Finally, he unfroze, his arms wrapping around her as their kiss deepened.

When finally they separated, panting for air, he smiled. She too smiled at him, causing lovely dimples to show on her cheeks. He took her by the hand and they walked toward the Maidenvault, excited and nervous about everything regarding Bella.

As they walked, he noticed a tall, slender girl bolt for the same building. Elia Sand, he realized, though he did not know what made her run away so swiftly.

As they reached the doors of the building, Arthur could still hear the sound of music, echoing across the castle courtyards.

* * *

Desiring to escape the crowds and heat of the wedding feast, Catelyn Stark made her way to the balconies which were adjacent to the upper galleries of the throne room. Each of the balconies had collected guests who desired to remain at the feast but escape from it as well. She passed by several crowded balconies before she found one containing a solitary woman seated upon a stone bench, facing toward the city. Her black hair was pinned up with sapphires and amethysts.

“May I join...” Catelyn’s words died on her lips as the woman turned to her, looking up with violet eyes.

“You may share the evening air if you wish, Lady Stark,” Ashara Dayne said. “Though I dare say you would rather not speak with me.”

“Indeed,” Catelyn replied.

“Or we could talk.”

“What would we have to talk about?”

A brow raised, Ashara considered Catelyn shrewdly. “Lord Stark plans for my children to accompany you to Winterfell, I find that a matter to discuss, don’t you?”

Catelyn rested her back against the archway. “What would you like to discuss about my husband’s intentions to bring your children North?”

“You don’t want them there.” Ashara stood and walked to the balcony’s balustrade, resting her hip against it.

“Of course I don’t want them there. I rather prefer to not see visible proof of my husband’s infidelities.”

Ashara laughed darkly. “Does it really bother you so much that he came back to my bed a decade ago? Many women would call that a bargain. He brought home no Northern bastards for you and from all reports took no other lovers. Meanwhile, I am unmarriageable because he left me with four little ones and he sits in Winterfell with you and your five children, ignoring his children in Dorne until he finally grew a conscience about them. I know women who would call you lucky, our former Queen included.”

“Lucky?” Catelyn regarded her with contempt. “To know that my husband lied to me and betrayed me over and again regarding you? To know that he entrusted you with secrets he only now sees fit to tell me?”

Ashara blanched, seeming to realize what she meant. She stumbled over her response. “He... he only _just_ told you about?”

Catelyn took a few steps forward, her voice low. “Secrets regarding some of your children, yes.”

Incredulous, Ashara began laughing. “I thought he would have told you ages ago. But, no of course he wouldn’t, why tell the truth when he can avoid the matter altogether? No wonder everyone has whispered of a rift between you and Ned.”

Catelyn stiffened at Ashara referring to her husband as ‘Ned’. “The rifts between my husband and I are no concern of yours, though they have certainly been caused by you.”

“By me?” She took a step back, amused and aggravated. “Need I remind you that he wanted to marry me? That when he and I promised one another that we would wed you were betrothed to Brandon Stark? That I did not compel him to come to Dorne during the Greyjoy Rebellion? That I never once had to coax him into my bed, but he came willingly?” She shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips. “Yet he never asked me to join him in Winterfell. He never took me for a mistress and he never asked for the children to come see him until now. _Selfish, blind_ fool that you are. He chose _you_. He chose to never allow his affection for me to supplant you and your place. He chose to never allow his children with me to visit him. And still you begrudge my children a place in his life.”

 Catelyn stared at her, her fists clenched. The gall of this woman to speak this way to her... and yet... everything that Ashara Dayne had said was true. Ned _had_ chosen her. He had chosen to keep Ashara and her children far from Winterfell and he had never taken another lover. It did not ease the pains she felt by Ned’s lies or betrayals, but she knew that if she weren’t careful she could easily push Ned back into Ashara’s arms.

Her hands relaxed, and she clasped them in front of her. “I will not begrudge your children any time with their father. They are welcome at Winterfell as guests for however long Lord Stark wishes them to be there. May it allow our children continue to grow their love and affection toward one another. If you will excuse me?”

Startled, Ashara inclined her head. “As you will.”

Catelyn walked from the balcony and looked out across the throne room where the revelers danced and the minstrels sang. She needed to find Ned. Eventually she spied him in the crowds, speaking with Sansa. She walked swiftly from the gallery to the main floor and then to her husband and eldest daughter.

Sansa smiled as soon as she saw Catelyn. “Mother, the feast has been wonderful.”

Catelyn gently cradled her daughter’s chin with one hand, somewhat concerned by how flushed her cheeks were. The heat of the room, and the hours of dancing were likely to leave the girl exhausted on the morrow. “I’m glad that you are enjoying the evening. However, I do think that it may be time for you to retire to your room. Find Robb and have him escort you back to the Tower of the Hand.”

She pouted. “Oh mother, must I?”

“Yes,” Ned replied. “You must do as your mother says.”

She still frowned, but she didn’t protest. “I shall retire then.” She curtsied politely to them both. “Mother, father.”

Sansa searched the room for Robb, who she spied across the room, speaking with Lady Margaery Tyrell and several other young women. She walked straight to him. Catelyn and Ned watched, amused, as their daughter’s appearance before their son caused his grin to drop. Catelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as she watched her children. Beside her, Ned did much the same. Robb was clearly struggling to not seem annoyed by his younger sister. Eventually, Sansa motioned toward Catelyn and Ned, who both dropped their hands so that their children wouldn’t see their amusement. Robb looked to them, pleading with his eyes, but was met with a shake of the head from both of his parents. Defeated, Robb excused himself from his admirers and took Sansa by the arm, leading her from the room.

Catelyn turned to Ned, suppressing her laughter. “Our poor children, you would think we ruined the entire day for them.”

Ned grinned at her. “They will forgive us, even if Robb loses some admirers.” He looked to her, his smile evaporating as he searched her face. “Can all be forgiven between us?”

Breathing deeply, she knew that she had to move past the lies and hurt. “I want us to talk Ned, about everything. I don’t know if I can ever fully forgive you or not, but I want us to move forward together. We can’t afford to face whatever trials the future will bring if we don’t face them together.”

He took hold of her hand and pressed it to his lips. “As soon as we can speak openly, I will tell you everything.” His lip crooked into a gentle smile. “For as long as I draw breath I will work for your forgiveness.”

“You don’t...”

“Bed them!” More than one voice shouted out, cutting off any words which Catelyn would have said. There were soon a chorus of voices shouting for the bedding of the King and his new bride. A crowd formed around Renly Baratheon and Arianne Martell, men and women pulling at their clothes and carrying them from the room. Ned and Catelyn watched, each of them smiling as the young leaders of Westeros were taken to their marriage bed.

“They seem happy,” she said.

“They do. I hope that they can remain happy, for the sake of the future.”

She looked to Ned, remembering her own, very dutiful, bedding. But duty had become more, it had grown into love. “You don’t have to work for my forgiveness Ned.” She placed a hand on his cheek, her fingers threading through the coarse hairs of his beard. “But it will be a very long time before I can trust you again.”

He placed a hand upon the one on his cheek, and pulled her hand gently away, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You are more than I deserve.”

She favored him with a small smile. “I shall remember to remind you of that sentiment when it seems that you have forgotten.”

“I’m certain that you will. Shall we retire for the evening?”

“I like that idea.” He took her by the arm and walked with her from the room, joining the crowds who were also wandering from the room. From the corner of her eye, Catelyn saw Lady Ashara standing in the gallery, watching. She had no words for what she felt about Ashara. She had no regard for the woman, but if it were not for the angry words which they had exchanged, Catelyn would still be avoiding Ned.

* * *

The door to the royal bedchamber was shut behind the very naked King of Westeros and his equally naked bride. Alysanne Sand trailed away from the door with other revelers, as they all made their way back to their rooms for the evening. She had loved every moment of the day, from the wedding to the feast to the dances to the bedding. Some day, she hoped that she would have a wedding of her own to enjoy. Watching her brother’s wedding, and now Arianne’s, and very soon Prince Quentyn’s, she couldn’t help but contemplate her own eventual wedding. She knew that it wouldn’t be as grand as the King and Queen’s, but it would be sweet to celebrate with her family, her whole family.

Along the way to her room, she found Ser Daemon Sand. They walked together through the halls, toward the section of the castle where they were housed. He offered her wine from the goblet he still held, but she refused.

“If I drink any more wine, I think I shall be sick.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.” He watched her swaying as they walked. “Drunk?”

“Sober enough to have my wits about me, but yes, I’m drunk.”

He finish the goblet and tossed it casually onto the flagstone floor. “I’m not nearly drunk enough.” He glanced back, in the direction of the chamber which held Arianne and Renly.

“She’s not yours Daemon.”

“I know,” he spat. “You aren’t the only one to remind me of that.”

“Hey,” she laid a hand on his forearm, gentle and comforting. “I’m not here to scold you. I know what happened between the two of you. I can’t imagine...”

He pulled away, unhappy, his voice was firm but not unkind. “I don’t need your sympathy either.”

She turned, glaring at him. “Fine, you don’t want my sympathy than how about this, we’re bastards. You and I have nothing but the kindness of our parents to depend upon, we don’t even have their names. Arianne was the heir to Dorne, and she drew you to herself because she is beautiful and charming, but she is the sun and the sun burns.”

“You don’t think I know that?” His scornful laugh echoed in the corridor. She was grateful that they were alone. “Doran and Oberyn and my father have all said the same to me time and again. But she... oh she still encouraged me at times.”

“Hush,” she hissed. “Do you want them to take your head?”

He shook his head, still laughing bitterly. “No, I want a woman in my arms to help me forget and perhaps talk me out of my choices.”

She eyed him warily. “What choices?”

He gave her a wan smile. “The King is holding a contest in a two days, after the coronation, to decide who will fill out his Kingsguard.”

“I know.”

“I will be competing.”

She gasped. “You can’t!”

“Why not? Because once upon a time I loved her more than anything in this world? I am one of the best swords in Dorne, and I can protect her. You and I were brought up with story upon story of what happened to Elia Martell. Look me in the eyes and tell me that she won’t be safer with me in the Kingsguard.”

She looked at him, shaking her head, but she knew that Arianne would be safer with Daemon in the Kingsguard. He wouldn’t allow any harm to befall her so long as he lived. But if he and Arianne ever forgot their vows... “I know that you would die for her. Does anyone else know that you plan to participate?”

“No, I haven’t said a word to anyone until now. Will you keep my words a secret?”

She knew that she shouldn’t. She should tell Oberyn in the morning, or her mother. But she also knew that he would keep Arianne safe. “I won’t tell anyone. But Daemon, if you value her life and yours, you will never touch her again.”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

“At the moment, yes, I do. A gallant fool to be sure, but a fool nonetheless.”

He smiled at her and stopped walking, leaning against the wall. “I said that I wanted a woman to talk me out of my choices, and here you have talked me into them. Now, if only you would be the woman in my arms for the night.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. My virtue happens to matter to me. Plus, my father plans to sell me off to the highest bidder, and you know that the buyers almost never want second hand goods.” She smirked at him, mocking the words she had spoken.

He started laughing as she spoke. “Most of the buyers wouldn’t know the difference.”

“I’m not drunk enough to agree to share a bed with you.”

He stepped toward her, a hand reaching toward her even as he placed another upon his chest in mock pain. “Would you truly need to be drunk to agree?”

“More than drunk,” she deadpanned, though she allowed him to take her hand.

“What about for a kiss?”

She chewed on her lip contemplatively. Maybe it was the wine, but she was curious enough to kiss him. He was sweet, and a friend, and this was far from the first time he had asked. She glanced around the corridor. “Not here.”

He beamed at her. “So is that a yes?”

She giggled. “Undecided, but I most certainly won’t kiss you here.”

“Ah, your virtue and the need to sell you to the highest bidder. Well then, shall we walk?”

He took her by the arm, whispering a great number of sordid things in her ear to make her blush. At last they reached the halls near her rooms. They stopped near the door to her family’s chambers, and he pulled her close to himself.

“Shall we go in?”

“And have my brothers kill you?”

“Like your brothers are even going to see, or your uncle, or your aunt, or your cousin. Edric left long before the bedding started. Lucas has likely been in bed for hours. Jon and Tyene disappeared during the dances and are likely in their room. Arthur also disappeared during the dances, likely to spend time with the former whore who is a servant in your household. Allyria and Beric left together as the bedding started and are also likely in their room. Which leaves your mother who may or may not be with Oberyn this evening, one can never tell.”

She opened and closed her mouth, stunned. “How did you notice that much about where my family went?”

“I notice many things, including the fact that if we enter your rooms, no one will see us.”

She looked up and down the corridor and saw that they were alone. The idea of kissing him still warmed her body, so she opened the door and walked inside with him, closing it behind them. There were only a few candles lit in the common room, indicating that likely no one was awake, though she could be discovered at any time should one of her family decide to pass through the common room of the suite she shared with her mother and little brother. Still, the thrill of her questionable choices only added to the excitement which welled within her. She walked to the cushioned couch which rested against the wall and sat, Daemon followed closely behind her, sitting next to her.

He pulled her into his arms and gently caressed her neck with one hand, then he bent his face to her neck and traced the same path with his nose and lips, drawing a gasp from her. She felt him smile as he pressed a kiss to her neck, causing more erratic breaths to escape her lips. She knew, somewhere in her mind, that she should stop him and tell him to leave, but she was too fascinated by the experience to stop him. She wanted to feel his kiss upon her neck, and she wanted to kiss him. She could see little in the dim light beyond his smile when he looked up at her.

“May I?”

She could manage little but a nod of her head while she looked at him, breathing heavily with her cheeks flushed. He bent to her and pressed his lips against hers. The sensation was strange, lips against lips, and tongues against tongues, but oh it was exquisite. She kissed him, hungry for something she didn’t understand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. His hands roamed her back, her neck, her sides, and found their way to her breasts where he touched her so tenderly that she moaned against his lips. Encouraged, he continued the gentle caresses, driving her mad with his touch. She pulled away from his lips, burying her face against his neck, and digging her nails into his shoulders. A moment later she found his lips again, dancing with their mouths. One of his hands trailed to her hips, and he shifted so that he laid her upon her back.

“Stop,” she gasped, willing herself to say what she didn’t want. She pressed her hands to his chest. “You have to go.”

He stilled, but didn’t move away.

“Please, we have to stop.”

He pulled away slowly, his chest heaving. “You don’t really want me to leave.” He wasn’t asking a question, rather stating what he knew.

She closed her eyes, still breathing heavily. “Please, go.”

He shifted away, sitting up. He reached for her hands and pulled her upright as well. “For the sake of your virtue, my lady.”

She stared at him, panting. “Thank you.”

He grinned at her and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “For kissing you? It was my pleasure, I assure you. You don’t need to thank me.”

She burst into giggles, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. “I was thanking you for stopping. Though kissing you was lovely. I hope that I helped to distract you.”

“You did, though now I must find a distraction from you.” He pulled away and stood, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he walked away and left her chambers.

She sat there, in the silence, feeling the racing of her heart and the fire in her body. She had always told herself that she would never allow Daemon Sand to touch her. Now that she had, she regretted very much that she had waited so long. She could never allow him to touch her again, it had taken all of her willpower to ask him to stop. If he hadn’t pulled away, she didn’t think that she would have stopped him from doing whatever he wished, nor did she think that she would have entirely minded such a conclusion.

She stood and walked to her bed chamber where she removed her gown, her jewels, her shoes, and her hairpins. She slipped a thin sleeping shift over her head before she crawled into the bed. She was exhausted, but her mind still raced. Belatedly, when her body relaxed and her mind slowed, she realized that she finally understood her parents. She understood wanting something so badly that the consequences no longer seemed consequential. She understood the burning desire for something more, some deep and intangible connection with another soul.


	24. The Council and the Sworn Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos :)

Lord Eddard Stark watched the slow procession of the King and Queen as they entered the throne room. The room had been transformed over the course of the previous day from a feasting hall to its normal state. Every lord and lady in the castle, along with hundreds of courtiers filled the room, watching the crownless King and Queen walk to the foot of the Iron Throne.

At the base of the throne, they knelt before the High Septon. He anointed them, blessing them as King and Queen of Westeros, swearing them to the protection of the realm.

He placed the crown upon Renly's head. As one, the crowds shouted, “Long live the King”. He placed the crown upon Arianne's head. As one the crowds shouted, “Long live the Queen”. They stood, turning to the assembly. “Long live the King, long live the Queen.”

King Renly Baratheon, the first of his name, walked the steps of the Iron Throne and seated himself. Though he had been King for more than half a year, his coronation sealed his place upon the Iron Throne with all the ceremony of Kings.

When the coronation was finished, the Small Council convened. This was the first official meeting of the new Small Council, and the beginning of the transition between Ned’s time as Hand of the King and Mace Tyrell’s term of service. Ned’s official duties would end within a few days of his departure for Winterfell, though that would not happen for near on a month.

He was relieved that his time in King’s Landing was drawing to a close. He longed for the peace and calm of Winterfell. He awaited the days when he would only have the affairs of the North to manage. Not that he anticipated total calm, not with all of his children being present in Winterfell. He was glad that Cat had grown accustomed to the idea of Ashara’s children coming North. He was also glad that he and Cat were speaking once again. He knew that she had yet to truly forgive him, but he was hopeful that their relationship would improve again when they were on their way North.

The King and Queen both took seats in the Small Council chamber. A Queen taking part in the Council was a rarity, but Arianne Martell had demanded the right, and Renly Baratheon had agreed to her position.

The rest of the council filled the seats at the table. Ned had never seen or heard of so many serving on the council, though perhaps that was for the best. The new Small Council contained men from every region of Westeros, except for the Westerlands. Retaining their positions were Varys as Master of Whisperers, Lord Baelish as Master of Coin, and Ser Barristan Selmy as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Newer to their positions were Lord Yohn Royce as Master of Laws, Ser Aemon Estermont as Master of Ships, and Grand Maester Gormon. The new Grand Maester was appointed by the Conclave to replace Grand Maester Pycelle, who was still a prisoner in the Red Keep. The King was considering sending the former Grand Maester to the Wall so that he would pose no threat to his rule.

Lord Mace Tyrell was present, learning the ins and outs of his new position. Also present were the five advisors to the council: Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Paxter Redwyne, Ser Marq Piper, Theon Greyjoy, and Smalljon Umber. The last addition to the Council was Ser Jacelyn Bywater, who was appointed by Renly to replace Janos Slynt as the Commander of the City Watch.

The meeting was long and arduous. Many tedious details regarding the changes within the government needed to be managed. The costs associated with the war needed to be counted and paid. The Lannister prisoners needed to be dispersed so that they were not all concentrated within King’s Landing. In the end, only Tyrion, Lancel, and Martyn Lannister, along with Myrcella, would remain in the Red Keep, the other assorted Lannister hostages would disperse to various keeps of loyal lords until their releases were ordered.

The last issue of the day was Lord Stannis Baratheon. Though he had no possible way to win against the unified forces who were sworn to Renly Baratheon, the second son of Lord Steffon Baratheon refused to bend to his brother, even for the Lordship of the Stormlands. The Tyrells would lead the siege of Dragonstone, with the objective of neutralizing the threat of the King’s elder brother.

Lord Tyrell had a further question to bring up as the discussions dragged on. “What orders does your grace have regarding your niece, the Lady Shireen?”

The room fell deathly silent as all eyes fell upon the King. Should any harm befall Shireen, there would be no legitimate heirs of House Baratheon until the Queen should birth a child. Ned Stark had never seen the young king look so grim.

“Spare her if at all possible,” he answered finally. “Though I will hold it against none if she perishes.”

Mace bowed his head in solemn acknowledgement of the King’s words. “Should she survive, your grace, will our request be considered?”

Renly stood, clenching his fists briefly before clasping them behind his back. He looked very much like Robert in that moment, full of wrath and fury. “Your request to wed your eldest son to my niece is denied, again. The position of Hand of the King has been granted to you, as a gesture of good will for my choosing to wed Arianne over your daughter Margaery. The marriage alliances were agreed upon by myself, you, and Prince Doran Martell. When this week ends, your daughter will be married to my wife’s brother. Still you have the gall to ask, yet again, for my elder brother’s daughter as a bride for your son. Do you think me an utter fool?”

Renly paced the room, his movements watched by everyone in the chamber. “Let me be very clear, Lord Tyrell, I have no intentions of fostering threats against my rule. Already I am honoring my late brother Robert’s desire for his children to be cared for by having Lord Varys track them down and place them in more comfortable positions. Only two of his children are acknowledged, and I intend to keep Edric Storm as Robert’s only publicly acknowledged bastard. Had my brother been more sensible, he would have left no bastards and several true heirs. As it stands, the crown will pass to my future children with Arianne. Should Shireen survive the assault on Dragonstone, she will become a ward of the crown, for me to deal with as I see fit and in my time. Seeking to further your own positions with marriages to the children of my elder brothers could be seen as an act of treason.”

He looked to them all, smiling briefly. “I owe my crown to you, good men of the realm. While I consider all of you to be honorable and true, I also know that power is a temptation for some. Should I have the misfortune of hearing whispers of treason, and should such unfortunate rumors be proved true, the headsman will be forced to do his duty.”

Ned Stark murmured his agreement with the rest of the room, but his heart rested uneasily, as it had for many months. He had given Renly Baratheon the crown and the kingdom. He had convinced himself that there had been no other choice, and while that had been true, he still felt the weight of guilt from his choice. Stannis Baratheon and his daughter didn’t deserve death for the treason of other men, Ned included.

* * *

On the fourth day of the festival week, all the people of the Red Keep gathered themselves in the throne room to witness the knighting of two hundred young men. The King and his Queen, along with the three men of the Kingsguard, and the small council stood at the front of the room. Before them were the men who were being knighted, each of them freshly anointed in the Sept of Baelor, now they would be sworn to knighthood by the knight who had decided that they were worthy of the honor.

Sansa Stark stood beside her mother and brother throughout the ceremony. Arya had abandoned them to stand with Alys and Lucas. From where they stood, Sansa could see her half-brothers and their cousin, Lord Edric Dayne. They were each to be knighted by a different man, Edric by Lord Beric, Arthur by Prince Oberyn, and Jon by King Renly. She thought that Robb should be knighted for his valor in battle, but her parents had both reminded her that knights were rare in the North and that Robb would have far greater honors as the Heir of Winterfell.

She enjoyed watching the ceremony, seeing the men all being sworn to knighthood by fifty or so Lords and Knights from the various kingdoms. She hoped that they would all grow to be true men of valor and honor as knights should be.

Later, they would move to the outer courtyard of the castle where a competition would be held for the four open positions of the Kingsguard. Only twenty men would compete for the positions, all of them already approved by the King. The King's personal guard would reduce from twelve to five when his Kingsguard was completed.

She applauded with the crowds when the men were finished with the ceremony and the King announced that the men were now all Knights of the Realm. There was a feast afterward, held in the middle bailey. Table after table was arranged for the myriad of denizens in the castle to celebrate. More than a thousand guests were at the tables, moving freely and laughing gaily. Sansa believed that there were more guests at this feast than had been present for the King’s wedding feast and coronation feast earlier in the week. She was right on that matter, for this day's festivities were funded by many of the Houses of the Realm to honor the new knights.

Table after table held fruits, pastries, pies, soups, stews, fish, crustaceans, and breads. In the center of the courtyard, a vast fire pit had been constructed and the cooks turned spits which held the carcasses of several aurochs, goats, fowl, boar, and stags. The aromas were extravagant, luscious. They would sup before the competition and return again after the new Kingsguard were chosen.

This being the third feast of the week, it was nice that the celebration was more relaxed. The revelers mingled between the tables while musicians played, though their tunes were often drowned out by laughter and conversation.

Sansa was invited to join the ladies with Queen Arianne. She seated herself between Arya and Alysanne. Also at the table were Obara, Tyene, and Elia Sand, Lady Sylva Santagar, Ladies Jeyne and Jennelyn Fowler, Lady Jayne Ladybright, Lady Margaery Tyrell, Lady Leonette Fossoway, and several other young women from the Reach, Riverlands, Stormlands, and Vale. It was an honor to sit with the Queen and her ladies. For a change, even Arya didn’t seem to mind her position, perhaps because she liked the Dornish Queen and her cousins.

As they dined, Lady Leonette approached Alys and spoke softly to her for a few moments. Alys seemed to agree with whatever Leonette had said, and the two excused themselves from the table. Sansa wondered what it was that her half-sister and Ser Garlan Tyrell’s wife had been talking about.

* * *

Alysanne Sand followed Lady Leonette Fossoway, contemplating her words. Apparently her brother Bryan Fossoway, the new Lord of Cider Hall, had taken an interest in her during the various festivities and wanted to speak with her. She recalled dancing with him at the wedding feast, three times. He was in his mid-twenties, and possessed a nice smile, and warm hazel eyes. They walked to him, across the courtyard where he was seated with various lords and knights of the Reach. Leonette bade her wait a few paces away while she walked to fetch her brother.

Alysanne’s attention strayed to the courtyard as she waited for Leonette and her brother to return. She saw Ser Daemon Sand with some of the Dornishmen, and her eyes stayed on him for a while. She thought of their kisses and felt herself grow warm. She wouldn’t mind kissing him again.

“Mistress Alysanne.” A voice beside her distracted her thoughts. She turned and smiled at Lord Fossoway as his sister had walked away, leaving them alone. “I am glad that you agreed to speak with me. Shall we walk?” He offered her his arm, which she accepted.

“I was intrigued by your interest, my lord, and therefore felt that I could not refuse to speak with you.”

“I am certain that I am not the only lord who has taken interest in you.”

“Indeed, my mother and father have both mentioned discreet inquiries about me. I am flattered that you wished to speak with me yourself.”

They were walking toward the edge of the yard, toward the godswood. “I wished to speak with you first, to see if our interests align.”

She cocked her head, amused. “And what particular interests are those?”

“I wonder what you desire in your future.”

She contemplated his words as they entered the godswood, formulating an answer. “Truth be told, I am uncertain of my future. I know that I shall be visiting Winterfell at my father’s request, afterward I do not know what I shall do. My brother Jon will be establishing himself here in King’s Landing. My mother will be here attending the Queen. My father will be at his seat in Winterfell. My cousin, Lord Edric Dayne, will likely return to Blackhaven with my Aunt Allyria and Lord Beric Dondarrion until he is of age to rule Starfall. I enjoyed my life at Starfall. I enjoy working with the traders, the spice and cloth merchants who sell their wares.”

“You enjoy business?”

“I do. I learned the rules of trade seated beside my mother as she and our stewards conducted the business of Starfall. I would not mind continuing to work in trade, should the need arise. Though I do hope for a good marriage, to whomever my parents believe is best.”

“Dutiful, wise, and industrious,” he mused. He smiled lightly at her. “Would you like to be the lady of a noble house?”

She smiled to herself, casting her gaze downward. “I would not mind the responsibility.”

He stopped, and turned to her. She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. His gaze was sober but welcoming. “My father died in the battle against Lord Tywin Lannister, and since then I have been assuming all the responsibilities of my new position.”

“I am sorry for your loss, my lord. I lost some whom I held dear, though thankfully the gods spared my family.”

He bowed his head, acknowledging her sentiment. “War brings loss to us all. Very soon I will be departing with the fleet to storm Dragonstone so that our King’s position will remain secure.”

“I wish you well in that endeavour.”

“I thank you for your well wishes and for your condolences. I suppose that I should speak with you about why I wanted us to talk.”

Grinning, she answered him. “You mentioned wanting to know what I desired in my future and what my interests are.”

He laughed nervously. “I suppose I did. Mistress Alysanne, I would like to seek your hand in marriage, should you be interested.”

She turned from him, not terribly surprised given the nature of the conversation, but still stunned that a lord would seek her hand in marriage. “You should speak with my parents regarding your interest, Lord Fossoway.”

“I intend to, my lady, though first I wished to seek your opinion on the matter.”

“I am flattered by your interest, though I am curious why you would seek the hand of a bastard over that of a trueborn noblewoman, including my half-sisters.”

“I have met many noblewomen from the Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and many other lands. There are many lovely women in the Seven Kingdoms, yourself amongst them. However, noble born women tend to be more pretentious than I prefer.”

She raised a brow. “And I as a bastard am humble enough?”

“Unaffected,” he replied, laughing. “You are much more honest and forthright than is common among the women I have known.”

“That, my lord, is because I am Dornish.”

He laughed again, entertained by her humor. “Perhaps you are right. As for your half-sisters, they are young and I wish to marry sooner rather than later. I have also heard murmurings that they will likely be wedded into the North.”

“Is all that happens at these feasts; discussions about who will marry whom?”

“Some of the time, yes. Other times, we discuss war, or affairs of the heart, or running our holdings.”

“War, romance, and business, the things which rule our world.”

“Indeed. I also must confess, I was further encouraged to ask for your hand after making a few inquiries about you. You have a good reputation by all accounts and seem to have developed strong relationships with your father’s trueborn children.”

“Ah, there it is. A good relationship with my half-brothers and half-sisters is hoped to carry on into the future so that any marriage I have might be used to build alliances via their marriages. I assume it helps that my brother has married the Queen’s cousin.”

He hung his head, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “I will not deny the truth in what you have said.”

She pressed her lips together, still considering his offer. “You are within your rights to make a formal request to my parents, and I shall consider your offer.”

He reached for her hand, and drew it to his lips. “I shall do so, my lady, and I shall hope for your answer to be a favorable one.” He kissed her hand, and then allowed her to withdraw it to herself. “Would you desire to continue talking with me in the gardens?”

“I am not opposed to your company, my lord,” she replied cordially, and allowed him to take her by the arm again as they walked in the godswood.

They spoke for some time as they followed the paths. He was a pleasant companion, affable and polite. While he wasn’t overly handsome or charming, she found herself seriously contemplating his offer. At war with her consideration of his offer of marriage were her quite recent memories of kisses shared in the dead of night with Ser Daemon Sand. She knew that nothing could come of an interest in the Bastard of Godsgrace, but she couldn’t deny wanting to share at least one more kiss with him.

They were seated on a bench near the heart tree when Robb, Arthur, and Tyene found them, each surveying them with interest. Alys grinned at them, knowing that they had appeared to ensure her well-being. “Lord Fossoway, may I introduce my half-brother Robb, the Heir of Winterfell, my brother Arthur, who was knighted today, and my good-sister Tyene Sand, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell.”

The Lord of Cider Hall stood and greeted each of them in turn. “It is a pleasure to meet you, I was having a delightful conversation with your sister.” He turned back to face Alysanne and bowed politely to her. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I will take my leave.”

“As you will,” she replied, smiling lightly. She watched him walk away for some moments before looking to her family, each of whom was considering her with great curiosity.

Tyene seated herself beside Alys, her head titled to the side. “What did the Lord of Red Apples want?”

Alys looked between the three, still puzzling over the conversation she had been having with him. “He asked if I would consider marrying him.”

“What?” They each asked in quick succession.

Arthur looked in the direction that Lord Bryan had walked. “Did you speak with him much during one of the feasts?”

“No,” she replied. “We danced three or so times at the King and Queen’s wedding, but we spoke at length only today. He has admitted that he is seeking a good alliance and that he found me interesting.”

Robb laughed, shaking his head. “And for him a good alliance is you, a woman with ties to multiple regions.”

Alys gave him a somewhat scornful smile. “You are my brother, heir to Winterfell and second in line to the seat of Riverrun. Tyene is married to Jon and cousin to the Queen. Jon is fast on his way to becoming one of the King’s dearest friends. I’m a useful tool, and he knows it well.”

Arthur moved closer, concerned. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I would consider his offer and that if he truly wishes to marry me that he must speak with my parents. Does that satisfy the three of you?”

They all agreed, somewhat grudgingly, that they were content with what she had told them. She stood, not particularly in the mood to watch the knights compete for the four spots in the Kingsguard. “I want to go into the city. Care to come with me?”

All three grinned, though Robb seemed the most hesitant. “We don’t have permission.”

“If we don’t ask for permission, then we can’t be told no,” she replied.

Tyene giggled beside her. “The two of you have fought in a war, what could your parents possibly have against a few hours spent within the confines of King’s Landing?”

“I’m ready to go,” Arthur said.

Alysanne, Tyene, and Arthur looked to Robb, challenging him with just a look. He relented quickly enough. “I’ll come.”

A few moments later, they made their way out of the Godswood and to the stables so that they could ride into the city, away from the fanfare of court and the festivals of the day.

* * *

Ser Jon Sand stood behind the King and Queen as the twenty men seeking a position in the Kingsguard entered the field. They would first compete against one another and the winners would face off against the three current members of the Kingsguard. Most of the competitors were already in service to the King in one capacity or another, a few others were allowed to compete based on their merits as swordsmen and their reputations. Jon saw Arianne shift uncomfortably in her seat as Ser Daemon Sand walked amongst the competitors, his own name in contention for a position.

Jon knew that Ser Daemon had a history with Queen Arianne, many in Dorne knew that he had asked for her hand in marriage when they were younger. Jon looked at other Dornish in the crowds and could see some who watched him with discomfort. He could see others who likely knew nothing, cheering and raving for him, for a Knight of Dorne, to win a position on the Kingsguard.

For his own part, Jon didn’t know if Ser Daemon’s desire to join the Kingsguard was good or bad. To be sure, Ser Daemon would protect the Queen at all costs, but would he do the same for the King?

He was a good fighter, Jon knew, from the times they had sparred and from the reputation he had in Dorne. Daemon won his first matches with ease, besting Ser Parmen Crane, and earning a place in the final rounds of the competition.

Ser Daemon Sand was the last to face off against the Kingsguard. Lord Bryce Caron, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Guyard Morrigen had each won a place in the Kingsguard, and would be sworn to the King’s service at the end of the competition. If Ser Daemon won against Ser Barristan Selmy, the King would choose between Daemon and Ser Emmon Cuy for the last position of the guard.

They stepped into the fighting pen, armed for the contest. Ser Barristan Selmy garbed in the white of the Kingsguard and Ser Daemon Sand in relatively plain steel. The walked toward the King and Queen, bowing respectfully. Then they drew their swords, saluting one another, and then they paced to the opposite ends of the field.

The men circled one another from a distance, observing one another. Both men were sluggish, showing signs of fatigue from the matches they had already fought that day. Jon was amazed at the elderly knight’s stamina; he seemed more alert than Daemon.

With cautious steps they drew nearer. Neither of them overconfident. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.

When they were near enough for their swords to touch, Daemon was the one to strike first. His movement was quick, but Barristan deflected his opponent with ease. Daemon side-stepped, dodging Selmy’s blade. He thrust his own blade forward, metal clanging against metal as the swords met.

Parry, thrust, side-step. The men moved on the field with ferocity. The steel on steel echoed across the courtyard. Ser Barristan surged forward, battering Daemon, pushing the younger knight backward on the defensive.

Arianne shifted in her seat, pushing herself upright, clutching her hands together. Her jaw clenched, as she watched her former lover be driven backward.

Daemon regained the advantage with a well-placed strike, earning himself a few moments on the offense, pushing the Kingsguard back. The crowds cheered, some shouting for Daemon and some for Barristan.

It wasn’t long before Ser Barristan struck again, with force and fury. He drove Daemon back, back, back, and then drove him to his knees. Upon the ground, with a sword to his head, the young man yielded.

The King stood, ordering the men to approach. Ser Barristan extended his arm to Daemon, and the younger man accepted his assistance in standing. The walked toward the platform stood before the King, as did the other men who had competed that day.

“You have all fought well, good sers, I am honored by your desire to swear yourselves to my service for life. Step forward, Ser Daemon Sand of Godsgrace and Ser Emmon Cuy of Sunhouse.” The men took a few steps closer, separating them from the rest of the knights. “You have both fought valiantly. Ser Emmon, you have served me well in my personal guard these many months. While I am pleased by your desire to make a further commitment to the realm by serving in the Kingsguard, I would have you remain in my personal guard.”

Edric Dayne’s cousin seemed downcast, but he bowed humbly to the King and spoke his thanks before stepping away, leaving Daemon Sand alone on the steps to the platform. “Ser Daemon Sand,” the King said. “I have seen your skills in battle and have heard many tales of you, and of your loyalty to my Queen.” Daemon’s eyes widened, but he otherwise reigned in his emotions. “I believe that it is important to know how far a man would go to defend and protect his King and his Queen, and I believe that you would make an excellent addition to the Kingsguard.”

Daemon fell to one knee, in gratitude and submission to the King. He looked up, his eyes resting upon Arianne before turning to the King. “I pledge my life to serve you, my liege.”

Renly Baratheon smiled at Ser Daemon, approving, before he turned his face to the rest of the Knights. He called forward his Kingsguard: Lord Commander Barristan Selmy, Ser Preston Greenfield, Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Guyard Morrigen, Ser Bryce Caron, and Ser Daemon Sand. The seven knights knelt before the King. They proceeded to swear their oaths of service, four of them for the first time.

Jon watched with fascination, wondering what it would be like to swear his life from now until death to the service of an order. He couldn’t imagine a life where he could never marry, never love, only serve. Though he doubted that Daemon joined simply out of a desire to serve the King honorably. He knew that Daemon loved Arianne, and from the King’s comments, Renly Baratheon seemed to know something of it as well.


	25. If Wishes Were Horses

For the first time in her life, Ashara Dayne walked into the Tower of the Hand. She and Alys were entering the Tower to discuss the girl’s future. One of the attendants escorted them up to the Hand’s Solar, where Ned awaited them. She could see the disdain of the guards and servants they passed. Ashara was not welcome in this place.

Ned was seated behind his desk when they entered his solar. He stood to greet them, kissing their cheeks in the Dornish fashion. They sat together on the cushioned chairs, sipping sweet wine while they discussed the proposals which had been made regarding Alysanne.

“There have been three proposals for your hand in marriage,” Ned told Alysanne when they settled.

“And many more inquiries,” Ashara added, not wishing for her daughter to be disappointed.

Alys seemed ambivalent. “Who are the proposals from?”

“One of the Freys made an offer,” Ashara answered. “Though that one isn’t worth a moment’s consideration.”

Wrinkling her nose, Alys responded. “Have I even spoken to a Frey?”

Ned laughed. “Around a dozen I’d say; Lord Walder has more children, grandchildren, and various other relations than anyone else in the Kingdoms. I do agree with your mother, the offer is beneath our consideration. Ser Gerold Dayne also made an offer.”

“He cannot have her!” Ashara was out of her seat as the words left her mouth, startling both Ned and their daughter.

“Why are you so vehemently opposed to him, my lady?”

Ashara sat, still seething. “Ser Gerold has been attempting to gain a foothold at Starfall for years. We feared that he might harm Edric in the battle against Lord Tywin. If Alys were to marry him, I fear that nothing would prevent him from attempting a more forceful coup of Starfall. Mine own reputation, and Edric still being a child, have considerably weakened our position.”

“He wouldn’t win a coup,” Alys said. “Many are far too loyal. Still, I would not assent to such a match. I assume that the third is from Lord Fossoway?”

“It is,” Ned replied. “I have spoken with him at some length regarding his interest in you. While I am cautious of him, he seems sincere in his interests. He has been quite upfront about his interest in you for both political and personal reasons.”

Alysanne pressed her lips tightly together. “Is his the best offer that I shall have?”

Ashara tilted her head to the side, concerned. “Do you dislike him?”

She shook her head. “No, he is quite kind. We spoke and danced at Prince Quentyn’s wedding to the Lady Margaery. I only... I had wished... Perhaps I am still young and foolish, but I had wished to marry for love. While Lord Bryan is kind, I do not love him. Moreover, should I be wedded to him, I will be bound to Cider Hall.” She looked at her father, despairing. “I have only just been able to spend time with you, and my half-sisters and half-brother. If I am bound to the south, shall I ever see you or them again?”

Ned’s solemn face grew sad. “It would be difficult, though not impossible. Your brothers and sisters would likely be able to see you more often than I, should their duties and yours allow it.”

With unshed tears in her eyes, Alysanne stood and walked to a window of the solar. Ashara watched her daughter, her heart breaking. She knew that one day her children would all need places of their own. Still, it seemed too soon. Ashara knew the pain of being separated from family, and did not wish it upon her daughter, no matter how inevitable it was.

“It is the way of all women, that we must be sent away when wed,” Ashara told her daughter. “Sweetling, it is unlikely that you shall get a better offer.”

Alys turned, tear-stained eyes narrowed upon her. “Because I am a bastard, and he is a lord,” she said simply. “I assume no other inquiries were made by so high a noble?”

“No,” Ned replied. “Some for second and third sons, all of good houses, but Lord Fossoway is the highest noble who inquired about you. I do agree with your mother, this may be the best offer for your hand.”

Alys shut her eyes briefly, breathing deep. When she opened them again, she had a small smile on her lips. “Do you think that the match will benefit our families?”

Ashara and Ned looked at one another briefly. She nodded for him to speak first. “Having family with ties to House Tyrell can only help House Stark.”

“Allyria and I believe that it could be good for trade between the Reach and Starfall.”

Alysanne paced the room briefly, threading her hands together. When she turned back to them, she seemed resigned. “You may tell Lord Fossoway that I accept his proposal. I am certain that when all negotiations are completed by you and him, that I will be told.” When Ashara and Ned agreed with her statement, Alys feigned a smile. “Now that we are done, may I be excused?”

“Of course,” Ashara said gently. Ned agreed with a nod of the head, a sad smile on his lips. Alys left them with a polite half-bow of her head. When they were alone, Ashara drained her cup of wine and sighed. “Our little girl is all grown up now.”

Ned looked to the closed door. “I wish that I could offer her more.”

“More than what? You have seen to her well-being with gold and now with helping negotiate a good match for her. It is everything that you promised for her when you first saw her.

He seemed surprised by her words. “I had nearly forgotten that promise in word, though not in deed. I hope that she will find happiness with this match.”

“First he needs to survive the siege of Dragonstone.”

He stared at the goblet in his hand as darkness clouded his face. “From last report, very few lords still remain with Lord Stannis at Dragonstone. At this point, they have all been driven within the walls of Dragonstone with part of our armies waiting outside their walls. When the fleet launches, they should face little resistance, though besieging the fortress will still be difficult. This is not the first siege which Lord Stannis has faced, though the circumstances are very different this time. Ser Garlan Tyrell and Lord Bryan Fossoway will be two leaders of the assault, though I doubt they'll be close enough to be greatly at risk.”

“Duty often holds no joys Ned,” she offered as a token of sympathy. She could see that the battle against Stannis Baratheon grieved him.

“I have known that for many long years,” he replied. “I will be glad to be rid of this city and back in Winterfell.”

She couldn’t keep the sadness out of her voice. “Then I shall be alone for over a year.” And I shall likely never see you again, she thought to herself. She internally berated herself for thinking that she would miss Ned Stark. He was the father of her children, nothing more.

“I am certain that her grace, the Queen will keep you quite busy.”

“I have no doubts of that,” Ashara agreed. “Still, I will miss the children.”

“I promise to keep them safe and sound while they are in my care.”

“I am certain that you will. I have seen the love you have for all of the children, and it warms my heart.”

He favored her with a genuine smile. “They are all a delight. You have raised your children well.”

“Thank you.” She looked to the door, thinking of Alys. “She reminds me of you in many ways. She is so dutiful.”

He laughed. “She reminds me of you, always wearing her heart on her sleeve. Though I do see how dutiful she is, in spite of how spirited she is.”

“Have you found matches for any of the other children?”

“For Lucas, no. For Cat’s children, we are seriously considering a match for Robb and another for Sansa, there have only been inquiries about the other children.”

“They are all so young. It seems strange that already plans are made for their futures, and Jon is already wed!”

“Most parents plan their children’s futures when they are young, unlike our own fathers.”

“Your father planned for two of his children’s futures, betrothals between House Stark and two other Great Houses. While you and I tried to plan our own future and failed spectacularly.”

He seemed both sad and amused. “Four well-raised children who are climbing high in the world is not a failure, though our actions have caused pain for many.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, just looking at one another, reflecting. Eventually, Ashara stood. “I trust that you will manage the betrothal contract for our daughter, as you did for Jon and Arthur. I do believe that it is time that I attend her grace.”

He stood. “Of course. I believe that we are done with everything which needs to be discussed today.”

They walked to the door of the solar, where he kissed her hand in parting.

* * *

Alysanne Sand stood on the outer wall of the Red Keep, watching as the fleet departed to wage war against Lord Stannis Baratheon. Her betrothed was on one of those ships. _Betrothed_... such a strange thought. She still had time before they married, should he live through the siege of Dragonstone, a few years of maidenhood left to her. She had only spoken to him twice since their match had been agreed upon, and both occasions had been rather formal. The next time they were likely to meet would be on the day they wed. She would leave for Winterfell soon, and he would return to Cider Hall via Highgarden once the battle was ended.

She watched the white sails as they faded like clouds into the horizon, bearing the Crowned Stag of House Baratheon, the Gold Rose of House Tyrell, and a dozen other banners. Though her family was on the side of the King, she couldn’t help but feel strange that they were condemning Lord Stannis to die for refusing to bend. He was the elder brother, the heir, and did young Shireen Baratheon mean nothing?

“Copper for your thoughts?”

She turned and smiled at Ser Daemon Sand, garbed in the white armor and cloak of his position. True to his words, he was holding out a copper, which she accepted. “I was wondering if what we are doing is right.”

“What are _we_ doing?”

“Sending a fleet to kill a man for doing nothing other than holding to the established laws of succession.”

“Careful, talk like that could cost you a head, and you do have such a pretty head. Lord Stannis was offered his ancestral seat of Storm’s End, which was his by every law of succession. The crown’s succession was a matter of dispute, solved by the bigger army winning.”

“It still feels wrong,” she murmured.

“Like accepting a marriage proposal for no reason other than the fact that he happens to be a lord?”

She glared at him. “Lord Bryan is a kind man, and I do enjoy talking to him.”

“And kissing him?” He grinned at her, the dimples showing on his cheeks.

She gaped at him for a moment before regaining her composure. “He and I have not had that pleasure yet. And how is life as a man sworn to chastity and honor?”

He laughed. “Sworn to chastity and honor, though many of my sworn brothers have been known to have a companion. Truth be told, thus far, it’s boring. Perhaps things will become be more entertaining as time goes by.”

She rolled her eyes. “So long as you are not the cause of your position growing more... interesting.”

“You sound as bad as Oberyn. Rest assured, I shall not be the cause of any incidents of scandal in the royal court. Besides, Oberyn will kill me if I even look at Arianne improperly.”

Alysanne burst out laughing. “That he will.” She became thoughtful. “What did your father think of you joining the Kingsguard? I never asked.”

“He was glad that I will be remembered forever, though he told me that I had better ensure I am remembered for good. I must serve with honor and dignity, and not bring disgrace to House Allyrion.”

“I am certain that you will succeed.”

“I am glad of your confidence.”

“I try to be an insufferable optimist.”

“I am well aware of that.”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed by his smug attitude. “And you are just insufferable.”

“You didn’t say that when I had you on your back.”

She glared at him, though she was somewhat amused. “You best be careful with what you say, lest my brothers and father hear you.”

He looked around and shrugged. “We are atop the castle walls with nary a soul in sight.” He moved so that she was trapped between the wall and him. “I could kiss you here and no one would see.”

She chewed on her lip, the memory of his lips tempting her. She raised her hand and pushed lightly against his chest, her gold betrothal ring glinting in the sun. “I am promised to another, Ser Daemon, and as such I must decline your scandalous offer.”

He stepped away with a polite bow. “As my lady wishes.” He smirked slightly. “It is a pity.”

She tilted her head, confused. “What is a pity?”

“It was fun to kiss you. Should your betrothed survive the siege of Dragonstone, I will never have the pleasure again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t speak like that.”

“Like what? That Lord Fossoway might die in battle or that I shan’t kiss you?”

“Both.” She rolled her eyes. “It is unkind of you to say that he may die, though it is true that he may. It is improper of you to say anything of kissing me.” She giggled lightly. “That we both enjoyed that fleeting moment-“

“Ah, so you did enjoy our time together.”

She felt herself flush red. “Yes,” she said shortly. “Now would you kindly stop?”

He bowed politely, laughing. “As you wish.” As his laughter subsided, he held out his hand to her. “May I escort you from here?”

“You may,” she agreed, accepting his hand and walking with him away from the view of the bay.

* * *

Several days after the fleet left for Dragonstone, Tyene Sand joined her cousin, the Queen, as she paid her first official visit to the hostage Myrcella Hill. They waited in the gardens while the girl was brought to them. A table had been prepared with iced drinks, cakes, cheese, and fruits.

They talked as they lounged, awaiting the arrival of the young girl. The weeks had passed so swiftly since they departed from Sunspear bringing so many changes to their lives that it was dizzying. To think that a year ago she and Arianne had been unwed, happily doing as they pleased. Now they and Prince Quentyn were all married and settling into new positions.

“Quentyn seemed happy with Lady Margaery when they left.”

“They did,” Arianne replied. “Margaery is a sweet girl, though she seems strong enough for Dorne. Only time will tell how well she will do.”

Tyene laughed. “A Tyrell and a Martell wedded. I never thought we would see that day.”

“Need makes for strange bedfellows.”

Tyene considered her cousin carefully. “How are you and the King faring?”

Arianne looked away, forcing a smile. “We are doing well.”

“Even with his grace publically insinuating that you were overly well acquainted with Daemon?”

The Queen’s hands curled into tight fists, though her voice remained controlled. “We are aware of one another’s past indiscretions. We are committed to the future of Westeros and will cooperate to bring heirs into the world.”

“Oh sweetling,” Tyene whispered.

“Don’t fret over me,” she replied, reaching across the table to grasp Tyene’s hand. “I have always been bound to duty. I am the most important woman in Westeros now. Mine is to lead the Kingdom as Renly’s Queen, to bear his heirs, and to raise them well. It was never for me to know love such as you know.”

“I wish that you could.”

A faint, somewhat bitter, smile flitted across her lips. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

“Indeed.” There was little else that Tyene could think to say.

“I do have some good news.” Arianne’s eyes brightened, along with her smile.

“Oh, do tell?”

“My mother has sent word that she will be coming to visit, though I suspect that you will be on your way to Winterfell by the time she arrives.”

“That is wonderful to hear! I will very likely be gone by then, as you say. I know that Lord Stark intends to depart as soon as word arrives from the fleet at Dragonstone. Jon is on leave from his duties beginning tomorrow when we depart to visit his lands.”

“I am certain that your time alone with Jon will be sweet. The time spent in the North with the Starks should prove interesting if nothing else.”

Tyene giggled. “It will be an adventure, to be sure. Oh look, she’s here.”

Walking toward them was little Myrcella, led and followed by guards. She was a pretty young thing, though sad. Her hair hung in golden ringlets around her delicate face, and her eyes were deep green. She seemed somewhat dazed by her surroundings, causing Tyene to wonder when the girl had last been outside.

Arianne stood and walked to the girl, motioning for the guards to leave. Myrcella curtsied respectfully to Arianne when they stood alone.

“Your Grace,” she said.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Myrcella,” the Queen greeted. “Come, join us.” The girl followed Arianne back to the table, where they sat. “This is my cousin, Tyene Sand.”

“Hello Myrcella, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

The girl smiled politely. “Thank you. I am glad to meet both of you.”

“I am pleased to host you,” Arianne said. “I have heard so many lovely things about you and am happy to say that from this day forth, you will be my ward. Very soon, you will be permitted to spend more time with myself and my cousins, and eventually you will be allowed to join my ladies in waiting. What do you think of that?”

“It would be an honor, your grace,” Myrcella replied.

Though the girl was polite, there was a hollowness in her voice. Tyene favored the girl with her sweetest smile, pitying her. “You must still be reeling from all of your losses, aren’t you?”

Myrcella’s lips trembled and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I miss my family.”

“I know, in a way, how you feel,” Tyene replied. “My sister Nymeria died in the battle against your grandfather. I always confided in her.”

“Tommen and I would talk to each other about everything.” Her eyes clenched shut shortly before she wiped at them with her hands. When she opened her eyes again, she seemed to be the saddest girl in the world.

“While I know that no one can replace mother, father, or sibling, two of my half-sisters are quite close in age to you. They can grow to be your friends. Would you like that?”

Myrcella looked between Tyene and Arianne. “If that is your wish.”

Arianne let out a light, sympathetic laugh. “Sweetling, my desire for you is that you will grow into a lovely young woman. I will oversee your education, bringing you tutors who will cultivate in you the skills needed for your station. I will assign your attendants and guards. And one day, when you are a woman grown, you will wed. Do you know of your betrothal?”

She nodded. “I am to wed one of Lord Stark’s bastard sons.”

“You will,” Tyene said agreeably. “I am wedded to Jon, the eldest of Lord Stark’s bastard sons, and you will be wed to Arthur, the next eldest. We will be family.”

Pensive, Myrcella asked, “Does Arthur not wish to meet me?”

“Arthur is a young man of five and ten,” Arianne replied. “At the moment, a girl of your age holds little interest for him.”

Though reluctant, Myrcella agreed with the Queen. They soon began eating, nibbling on the varieties of food while sipping iced honey-milk and sweet mint in lime water.  While it was all appealing to the eyes, more than a bite of any of it turned Tyene’s stomach. Eventually she gave up on trying to eat, resigning herself to sipping the mint-lime water.

When they were finished, and Myrcella departed with her escort, Tyene noticed that Arianne was watching her with suspicion. “What’s wrong? You scarcely touched the food.”

“As of late, most food makes me nauseous.” She looked up at her cousin, an irrepressible smile spreading across her lips.

Arianne’s eyes went wide. “Are you with child?” Giggling, Tyene nodded her head in affirmation. Arianne stood, rushing to her cousin, and wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Oh that’s wonderful! Have you told Jon?”

“No, not yet. I want to tell him when we are visiting his lands, so that it is special and private. I also wanted to wait, just to be certain that I am pregnant.”

Arianne gave her a friendly kiss. “Oh sweetling, I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you. I hope that soon you too may be with child so that our babes may grow together as we did. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Smiling, Arianne couldn’t help but agree. “It would be perfect.”

* * *

A gentle mist fell the entire ride from King’s Landing to Severin Hall, the castle which was now the home of Ser Jon Sand. Thankfully, the castle was a rather short ride from King’s Landing, two full days of riding south and east. The castle rose steadily before them on a hill, peeking above the tall trees of the Kingswood. It was surrounded by a moat, formed by a diversion of the Severin River. The river itself was a tributary to the Wendwater River, making its way eventually to Blackwater Bay.

They crossed an arched stone bridge over the moat which led up the hill upon which the relatively small castle was built. The wide parapets of the structure provided a strong defense against any potential foes. The pale stone of the castle seemed dull and dreary due to the greyness of the day. The castle was an L-shaped structure with three taller towers, and a circular keep at one end of the L. There were well-maintained lawns and gardens surrounding the entire structure, within the curtain walls.

The gate was opened to them as they rode their horses along the stony path which led to the outer bailey, beside the stables. A line of servants awaited them, standing straight and still in the light rain. The herald Jon had sent ahead of them had apparently been heeded.

Jon dismounted first, close to the residents of his castle. He held the reigns of his mount in hand, smiling easily, wondering how they would perceive him. A man stepped forward, old and grey, with a large nose and small eyes. He motioned for some of the men to assist the others in Jon’s company with dismounting.

“My Lord,” the man said in greeting. “May I assume that you are Ser Jon Sand?”

  _My lord_ , Jon marveled at the title, unable to wrap his mind around the notion that in this place he would be called ‘lord’. He heard Tyene and Arthur stifle their laughter at his being called ‘lord’. “Yes, I am Ser Jon. I presume that the messenger arrived?”

“He did, as did the ravens from his grace, King Renly. We have prepared rooms for yourself and your guests, my lord. As for myself, I am Dale, steward of Severin Hall.” He turned to the line of servants and said their names and positions in quick succession. Jon feared that he wouldn’t remember a single one.

“Thank you Dale,” Jon replied. He turned to his wife and sister who were now standing close behind him. “This is my wife, Tyene, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell.”

Dale bowed to her. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

It was Jon’s turn to stifle a laugh as Tyene now appeared to be perplexed by the courtesy title. Here she was a lady, while everywhere else she was merely a bastard. “Thank you,” she replied sweetly.

Jon turned next to his brother. While the plan had initially been for Jon and Tyene to travel to his lands alone, save for a small escort, he had granted Arthur’s request to accompany them, after extracting a promise that he wouldn’t be a bother to them. “This is my brother, Ser Arthur Sand.”

Dale bowed again. “A pleasure, ser.”

Jon, his wife, and his brother looked uncomfortably at one another and at the people in the yard. The castle’s servants and the attendants who had accompanied them seemed to know their duties, unloading the horses and afterward leading them to the stables. It was Dale who assisted them.

“My lord, would you like to be shown around the property or to your rooms so that you might rest and change out of your wet clothes?”

Jon looked to Tyene, she had been easily tired of late. “What do you say, my lady?”

“I should like to rest.” She smiled at him. “However, I suppose that we could be shown some of the property while we are on the way to our rooms.”

They were all agree with that idea, and so the steward led them toward the entrance of Severin Hall, with Jon beside him. Tyene trailed quite close to them while Arthur and his companion Bella followed at a slight distance, observing their surroundings. Dale told them the history of the castle and its former residents as they walked.

The castle had been built some years after Aegon’s Conquest by a minor noble house who had been granted the lands as a gift from the crown. The castle was built over the course of ten years, though the various owners had built onto it over the centuries. Severin Hall had passed through several families over the years, with the previous owner dying during Robert’s Rebellion and his heirs being attained shortly thereafter. Since then, the property had belonged to Renly Baratheon, until now.

The castle of Severin Hall was much smaller than Starfall, though it was still a formidable estate. As Dale walked with them, he showed them many rooms: the kitchens, the great hall, the library, the maester’s tower, the privies, and finally their chambers. There were many more rooms that they had yet to see, the pantry, buttery, larder, gatehouse, small sept, storerooms, cellars, guest rooms, and many other rooms.

He left them in the solar, where bread, wine, and cheese had already been laid out for them. They sat and ate while the servants continued to bring their chests to their rooms.

Jon smiled stupidly at his brother and wife. This was his home, his own castle. He laughed to himself, causing his companions to look at him curiously.

Arthur spoke first. “What is so funny?”

“Thinking that all of this mine, and ours. A place where we and mother may all live. You can still own a shop in King’s Landing if you desire and also live here. You and mother and Lucas and Tyene’s sisters would all be able to have rooms here and we would still have room for more guests. We could host all of our brothers and sisters and friends.”

Arthur and Tyene joined in his laughter while Bella smiled politely. Whatever affections Arthur and Bella shared, she was not and could never be family.

Tyene slipped her hand in his and squeezed, her normally reserved public facade stripped away, revealing an expression of pure joy. “This is wonderful.” She looked around, seeing that the various servants had left. “We should all change from our wet travel clothes.”

They agreed with her suggestion and went to their rooms to change from their damp riding clothes into dry, fresh clothing. When they were drier, Jon and Tyene rested upon the feather mattress of his bed, content to hold one another and take in their surroundings.

The room was large, with five tall windows along one wall which would illumine the entire room on a sunny day. For the moment, the room was mainly illumined by the light of three candelabras and the large fireplace. Three tapestries hung on the wall opposite the windows, depicting young men and women celebrating a wedding. The walls and ceiling were carved with a pattern of squares and leaves. The wardrobe and chests in the room were dark walnut, carved and painted with vines and roses.

She curled against him, resting her head beneath his chin while he held her. “Are you happy?”

He held her hand, slipping his fingers between hers. “More than I can ever remember. I have more than I ever desired.”

She turned, shifting so that she could look at him. Her eyes sparkled with some hidden mischief. “May I make you happier?”

He eyed her curiously, unsure what she meant, for her voice did not betray her thoughts. “Always, my love.”

Her smile was beautiful, so happy. “Would it make you happier if our small family were to grow?”

“To grow?” He puzzled at her words, wondering. When her words fully sank in, he laughed. “I would love for us to have a child.”

Her smile broadened. “Well, in a few months, if all goes well, we shall welcome our first child into the world.”

Stunned, he sat up slowly, pulling her with him. “Truly?”

“Truly,” she replied.

He kissed her, quick and gentle, caressing her face with his hands. “This is wonderful. Are you happy?”

She mirrored his actions, running her fingers through his growing beard and kissing him lightly. “More than I have ever been.” She paused, pulling back slightly. “I love you.” She kissed him again.

She had never said that she loved him before that moment, though he had long believed her to feel as he did. Kissing her, breathing in the scent of her, nothing was better in all the world. Here, in the castle which was his, holding his wife who was pregnant with their first child, life was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The castle used as a reference/inspiration for Severin Hall is Thurland Castle in England. The Severin River is made up for story purposes. The name Severin is taken from Skyrim.
> 
> Regarding Arianne and Renly, since it was touched on in this chapter and I feel like it might bring up questions. I fully and freely acknowledge that Renly is gay and prefers men, however duty sex is a thing and while I think they would both prefer someone else, they both know their duties. In truth, we don't know that Renly and Margaery in canon didn't consummate the marriage since the Tyrells have zero reason to tell the Lannisters that it was consummated and every reason in the world to lie about it. So here, their marriage is consummated but it is far from what Arianne desires.
> 
> Thank you all for everything, as always!


	26. Forward Momentum

“I will miss you Cat,” Edmure Tully was telling his sister Catelyn. “I have enjoyed the months we have been able to spend together.”

“As have I,” Catelyn agreed. She only wished that Lysa could have been with them, and that they might all have sat beside their father in Riverrun one last time. Though her thoughts of Lysa were still bitter since their parting in the Eyrie and their uncle Brynden had written that their father, Lord Hoster Tully, was growing weaker day by day.

“I will give father a kiss from you and the children.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Smiling, he pulled her into a tight embrace. When they let go of one another, he turned to Ned and the children, bidding each of them farewell. Afterward, Catelyn watched as her brother mounted his horse and joined the stream of horses and wagons which were returning to the Riverlands.

Her heart sank a little as she watched her brother leave, as it always did whenever she was parted from the ones she loved. She hoped that he might marry soon, and that he might truly find happiness with whomever he wed. She prayed that he might have children to love and raise as the heirs of Riverrun.

When Edmure was beyond sight, they walked toward the Tower of the Hand. As they entered the inner bailey, she spied the young Queen walking with Ashara Dayne and Ellaria Sand, behind them walked five of Prince Oberyn’s bastard daughters, along with Alysanne and Lucas. Jon and Arthur, along with Oberyn’s daughter Tyene were away at the estate which the King had granted to Jon.

Catelyn and Ned still needed to have a long conversation about Jon, and many other things, but they needed to wait until they were far from King’s Landing. Her eyes fell upon the youngest of Ned’s bastards, the boy who was half a year older than Bran. Until the first time she had seen the young bastard, she had never seen the traces of Ned in Bran’s face. Looking at young Lucas, she couldn’t help but see the similarities in her mind’s eye, the shape of the jaw, eyes, and nose, the crook of their lips. It cut like a knife to see the boy running around when her own son would never walk again.

“May we join the Queen,” Sansa asked, interrupting Catelyn’s thoughts.

“You may approach her grace, but she must be the one to ask for your company sweetling.”

Arya spoke up beside her. “Arianne likes us.”

“ _Queen_ Arianne,” Sansa corrected.

“ _Queen_ Arianne,” Arya repeated, irritated with her sister’s correction.

Catelyn smiled. “I know that she is fond of both of you, and I am glad that you are both fond of her. She has offered positions for both of you as ladies in waiting when you are older. For now, you may approach her grace to see if she would like your company.”

“Thank you mother,” the girls said together, bobbing their heads respectfully. They walked across the courtyard together, Sansa with her measured steps and Arya with her hurried ones. They curtseyed to the Queen together, and a few moments later joined their half-sister and half-brother as they walked. They disappeared into the library tower shortly thereafter.

Catelyn was glad that her girls both loved this queen. While Sansa had adored Queen Cersei, Arya had loathed everything about the woman, as Catelyn now did. Though Catelyn had her doubts regarding Arianne, she could not deny that the young woman was kind and charming. Perhaps a few years for each of them serving as ladies to the Queen, would do her daughters good.

Robb excused himself so that he might tend to the direwolves, leaving Catelyn and Ned alone in the inner bailey.

“I should go to him,” she said.

They had been discussing this plan for many days, in hushed whispers so that their schemes might not reach unwanted ears. “Are you certain that this is wise?”

With a rueful laugh she replied, “Not entirely, but we have little choice. We are leaving soon, and he is not. If what we suspect is true, than certainly he shall be able to discern the truth of the matter.”

“Not to our benefit,” Ned replied, still leery of their plans.

“If what we suspect is true, then the downfall of our enemy, though by another’s hand, is to our benefit.”

With a sigh, he kissed her brow. “Shall I go with you?”

“No, too many eyes may follow if you come. If any question why I am going, it is a simple matter to say I am offering my condolences for his losses and apologizing for any wrongs done to him by myself and my family.”

He nodded in agreement, parting with her in the courtyard. From there, she walked across the castle to the towers where prisoners were held. She climbed the many steps to the tower cells. Their time in King’s Landing was growing short, and still so many unanswered questions lingered in her mind. When she and Ned had discussed the matter, they knew of only one person who might seek and find the truth they desired.

The guards allowed her to pass through the tower with barely an inquiry, they knew who she was and that she would not contribute to the prisoner’s escape. At the top of the tower, the guards unlocked the door to the cell and allowed her inside.

She found Tyrion Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, seated at a desk, reading a lengthy tome. He looked up, his expression changing from annoyance to surprise rather swiftly. “Lady Stark, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

She seated herself near him, a brow raised. She sincerely doubted that he found it a pleasure to meet with her. “I have questions which I have been pondering and am seeking answers.”

“I doubt that I have many answers Lady Stark.” He looked around the room, and gestured at the walls of his sparse cell. “I have oft been a prisoner of late, and it seems that I am not like to leave this cell for quite some time. News is hard to come by in such a state.”

“I am certain that you will find a way.”

He grinned, mischievous. “I shall endeavour to try. Now, what bothers you?”

She considered him thoughtfully, remembering him as he was when last they saw one another in the Eyrie. He had been a prisoner newly freed then, and was now a prisoner again. “When I took you hostage it was due to the words of Lord Baelish.”

“The knife which had been sent to slay your son,” he said, a chill in his voice.

“I trusted him then, believed his words.”

He finished her thought. “And now you do not.”

“No,” she agreed irritably. “I no longer trust any word which comes from his mouth. The more I think upon all that Ned and I have learned, I cannot help but think that he has some sinister plan in mind. It appears that he was working toward your death. Beyond that...”

He smirked. “I have thought the same for some time, though I had not thought lay all of the blame on Littlefinger. What do you know?”

She told him everything. For many long minutes, she told Tyrion Lannister all she knew, starting with Lysa’s secret letter, and ending with all she and Ned had gleaned in King’s Landing. He listened intently, drinking in every word. When she was finished, he considered her carefully.

“Plots within plots. I can see why you and your Lord Husband thought that myself and my siblings were to blame for the death of Jon Arryn and the attempts on your son’s life.”

“Your brother did attempt to murder my son,” she reminded him coldly.

“Indeed,” Tyrion agreed. “Though he wouldn’t have been the one to hire a knife for young Brandon’s throat. Neither would my sister, as Jaime is her hired knife. Nor would I have cause or thought to kill your son. Truly, I am sorry that he will never walk again. I understand what it is like to be considered less than whole. I cannot answer who sent the knife, but I can seek out answers to your other concerns.”

She raised a brow. “My concern is the downfall of a man who I once called friend.”

His smile was positively wicked. “I will see what I can learn. I do wonder why you have given me, a prisoner who has no loyalty to you, all these delightful bits of information?”

With a wry smile, she answered him. “Think of it as an apology.”

“I scarce believe that answer, Lady Stark.”

“I have seen how your mind works, Lord Lannister. We share a common enemy, and while I must soon return home, you will remain here. How many days and hours will you spend thinking about the ways Petyr Baelish has attempted to bring you and your House to ruin I wonder? Some day, I believe that you will find a way to bring him to ruin, freeing yourself from this tower cell.”

“And I shall be indebted to House Stark for the knowledge you have given me?”

She stood, a sly smile on her lips. “I am hoping for peace between us, my lord. Some day the King will likely free you, sooner if you can prove duplicity by Petyr. You will then be restored to your lawful seat as Lord of Casterly Rock. If you wed and have heirs, they will follow after you as Lords of the Rock. I would see peace between our Houses, for my children and their futures.”

He stood as well, considering her for several long moments before holding out a short, stunted hand out to her, which she accepted. “We can have peace, Lady Stark.”

* * *

Shortly after Ashara Dayne’s sons returned from Severin Hall, their family gathered for a dinner in the Queen’s Ballroom. Ostensibly, the dinner was hosted by the Queen, though in truth it was Tyene and Jon who were the hosts of the dinner. The King was not there, which was a relief as they could be less formal. Ned’s children with Lady Catelyn were there, though Ned was not. Together, they were a rather small assembly for such a large hall. Still, it was Arianne’s pleasure to host them in such a grand room.

When they were nearly done with the meal, filled with duck, lamb, olives, peppers, and stuffed grape leaves, Jon spoke up. “Tyene and I have an announcement to make.” He looked to his wife, grinning, and Ashara realized what they were going to say.

“I am with child,” Tyene finished, smiling radiantly.

There were cheers and congratulations, all around the table, followed by hugs and kisses. As they settled again, Ashara caught Oberyn’s eye, an unspoken question in her own. Could Elia and her children at last rest? Was all vengeance now complete for House Martell? A Martell on the throne, and a bastard Martell wed to the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, now expecting their first child. Oberyn’s smile was gentle, genuine. They would be grandparents now, a strange notion.

They chatted late into the evening, laughing and celebrating together. Ashara would miss days like this, times spent with all of the children. Would she ever have such times again? She would need to keep busy, lest the sorrow of being parted from the children break her. At least she would be able to go to Severin Hall during Jon’s time in the North, helping her son and good-daughter ensure that their lands and estate were well cared for and that their staff were performing their duties.

Several days later, Ashara made her way to the sept to say her regular prayers. There were a few others inside, kneeling before the statues of the Seven. Tyene was there, praying to the Mother. Before the Crone was a red-haired woman whom Ashara had taken to avoiding, Lady Catelyn Stark. Their last interaction had been at the wedding of the King and Queen, and it had been less than pleasant.

She stood, frozen in place. She could leave the sept and return later. She could go forward, saying her prayers to each of the Seven in turn as she had planned. Lady Stark was standing before Ashara could move. Catelyn didn’t notice her at first, but when her eyes found Ashara, she stiffened. With a neutral expression, the woman approached Ashara. Behind her, Tyene stood, her blue eyes observing with interest, no doubt the girl would whisper all that she saw to her sisters and cousin.

Ashara forced a slight smile, inclining her head respectfully when Catelyn Stark was near. “Lady Stark.”

The other woman matched her gesture. “Lady Ashara.” She stopped, clearly contemplating something. “May we speak? Though, I suppose you desire to pray?”

Curious, what could she do but agree? “I can postpone my prayers, the gods are ever with us.”

With a nod of her head, Catelyn walked toward the exit of the sept, Ashara followed closely behind. They walked side by side from the sept, toward the gardens of the Red Keep. “As you know, we will be leaving very soon,” Catelyn said.

“I am ever aware of that.”

“I wanted you to know that your children will be well treated while they are under the care of myself and my husband.”

“You seemed to imply as much when last we spoke,” Ashara replied, her tone neutral.

Catelyn’s lips twisted into a grim expression. “As I recall, that was not the most pleasant of discussions.”

Ashara couldn’t hold back the laugh which escaped her lips. “No, it was not.”

“You treated my daughters with kindness when they were in Dorne, welcoming them as though they were your own, giving them gifts and gowns.”

“Most of the gowns and gifts came from the Martells,” she countered.

“Even so, your children will be shown no less kindness.”

“Thank you Lady Stark.” She turned to the side as she spoke, and noticed Tyene following at a respectable distance. Ashara laughed, causing Catelyn to look in the same direction.

“That girl is one of Prince Oberyn’s daughters isn’t she?”

“Yes, Tyene, the third of his daughters and Jon’s wife.”

“Ahh,” Catelyn replied. “That explains her not so subtle interest in our conversation.”

“At least she is trustworthy, unlike the other ears and eyes who are certainly hearing and watching us. She will also be traveling to Winterfell with you.”

“And due to birth a child there I have heard.”

“My first grandchild, and Prince Oberyn’s first grandchild.” Lady Stark frowned. “You dislike my children having children of their own?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “I no longer fear your children trying to usurp mine own. I was merely thinking of what I know regarding you and Oberyn Martell.”

Ashara looked away, clenching her jaw. “The Prince and I have a complicated history,” she replied quietly.

Lady Stark considered her circumspectly, but said nothing further on the matter. “Tyene looks very different from her sisters.”

“They are all different in their own ways, each taking after their mothers in some respects and their father in others. Nymeria had a distinctly Volantene look to her. Sarella’s mother is from the Summer Isles, and she looks little different from a Summer Islander. Tyene’s mother is a septa-”

Catelyn inhaled sharply. “A septa?”

“She was sent to the Faith as a girl, she was one too many mouths to feed even though she is of noble birth, from the Riverlands originally.”

She seemed both bothered and intrigued by the conversation. “Of what house?”

“House Blanetree, her name is Arwyn.”

Wide-eyed, Catelyn looked back at the girl who was acting as though she wasn’t following, then to Ashara again. “I knew her mother, when we were just girls. She was the tenth child in the family, her sister Sylwa was sent to the Faith as well.”

“You disapprove of her having borne a bastard after having been forced into the Faith as a child?”

She looked at Ashara coldly. “We all have our duties, whether we like them or not.”

Ashara rolled her eyes, laughing. “Weren’t you ever young and foolish? Share a few kisses with a young man in your youth?” A flush of pink spread across Catelyn’s cheeks. “Ah, so you were a spirited girl. I’ve little doubt that you kissed Brandon. He was ever a charming young man.”

“Brandon was charming,” Catelyn said shortly. “He had an easy smile, and a quick wit- until the day he was murdered by an evil man.”

“To the sorrow of all,” Ashara agreed, sorry that she had brought up Ned’s brother.

“As for your rather prodding inquiry, Brandon and I did share kisses- we were pledged to marry. A kiss is not an offense against the gods.”

She laughed suddenly. “Murder is an offense against the gods, lying is an offense against the gods, sex is a gift from the gods.”

“Which is meant for marriage.”

“It is, but the gods forgive the indiscretions of their faithful, do they not? Bastards may be born of lust, but they are still children and all children are gifts from the gods.”

Catelyn was quiet for some time, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “All children are gifts,” she replied eventually. “Though the lives of children are made easier or harder by the choices of their parents.”

Ashara managed a brittle smile, attempting to ignore the barb. “Of course they are. I am certainly pleased that you have promised to show kindness to your husband’s bastards when they are in your care.”

“As you say, Lady Ashara,” she replied, ice in her tone. “I must be going now, I thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” She bowed politely, attempting to hide the smirk on her lips. Ashara watched as Catelyn turned and walked from her. A moment later, she pushed thoughts of their conversation out of her mind and walked to her son’s wife, deciding that she needed to have a talk with the young woman about keeping her nose out of places where it did not belong.

* * *

After weeks of waiting for word from the fleet at Dragonstone, Lord Eddard Stark received permission from the King to return to Winterfell. He had been in King’s Landing for a little over a year, and had longed to return home the whole time. He would be one of the last lords to depart the city. The crowds of lords, ladies, knights, and courtiers had thinned considerably since the wedding of the King and Queen.

He had faith that Renly Baratheon would be a good king if he listened to his councilors. Thus far, Robert’s youngest brother was doing well in his position. He prayed that the gods would give the young King and Queen wisdom so that they would rule well. He prayed that the gods would forgive them for the wrong they did to Lord Stannis Baratheon.

Ned’s household, and remaining retainers, were a day away from departing for the North when the raven finally arrived from Dragonstone. Ned stood in the Small Council chamber one final time to bear witness to the letter’s contents, though rumor had swiftly spread throughout the castle regarding the fate of the mission.

Months of blockade and siege had prevented Lord Stannis Baratheon from gathering allies, and had dwindled the food supplies within Dragonstone. Those who had attempted to join Lord Stannis had been slain at sea or shortly after making landfall on the island. When the King’s new forces under the command of Ser Garlan Tyrell arrived, they knew that the people within the fortress would be weak, desperate for food.

Breaking through the gates promised to be a bloody endeavour, so they had shouted promises of amnesty to whomever would open the gates to them. Some of Stannis’s men turned against him, opening the gate. But Renly’s men had been fools, rushing inside instead of waiting for Stannis’s forces to come out. Fifty of Renly’s men died from boiling oil and arrows as they entered Dragonstone. The men who had raised the portcullis had been the first to die.

Still, with the way open, the King’s men flooded into the courtyard, weapons at the ready. A bloodbath had ensued. Two hundred more of the King’s men had died in that courtyard, shot down by bow and cross-bow. As the army progressed, more died by mace, spear, axe, and sword, though Stannis’s men died in greater numbers once higher ground had been achieved.

In the end, a thousand men, enemy and ally alike lay dead throughout the fortress. Lord Stannis Baratheon had fought well, and hard, dying with a blade in his hand. His wife, Lady Selyse of House Florent, was still alive. She was held as a hostage, along with several others. Her fate, and that of the other hostages would await the King’s pleasure.

The last bit of news in the missive from Ser Garlan Tyrell was that Lady Shireen Baratheon had also died. There had been a struggle while trying to take her in hand, and she had fallen from one of the battlements, her body lost at sea, to the sorrow of all.

King Renly Baratheon had been quiet and solemn at the word of the deaths of his brother and niece. Though the king had seemed confident of his choices to send the fleet to Dragonstone, knowing the fate of his family seemed to weigh heavily on the young man’s mind. Afterward, Renly gave instructions for the treatment of the prisoners, established a castellan of Dragonstone, and gave orders for the fleet to return home once all was finished.

Ned did not speak much for the rest of that day, other than to send word to Alysanne that her betrothed was alive and well. After ensuring that his household was prepared for their departure the following day, he sought the peace and solace of the godswood. He prayed for hours, asking that the gods forgive him for the wrong he had done to Lord Stannis and his daughter. He prayed for safety during the long journey to Winterfell and for his family to be at peace with one another.

He returned to Catelyn late that night, still solemn when he lay beside her. He threaded his fingers through her long auburn locks, distracted from the cares of life by the simplicity of her hair. Her hair which glowed like flame in the candlelight.

“Are you at peace my love?”

Her gentle words brought him to the present. “My time in the godswood helped me bear the news. I knew that this day was inevitable when I chose to place Renly upon the throne, yet I cannot help but feel that this was a deed ill done on my part.”

“They say that Stannis died fighting, is that not a better death than execution?”

He made a wordless grunt of agreement. “For most men, though he was seldom a man of war.”

“You made choices to protect our family,” she reasoned quietly. “After the King was chosen, the ends were no longer in your hands. Renly gave his brother many chances to lay down arms, all of which he spurned.”

“I know,” was his quiet reply.

“Lady Shireen’s death disquiets you doesn’t it?”

“She was Arya’s age.” She shivered at his words, so he wrapped his arms around her. “I thank the gods that you and our children are safe.”

She clasped his hands and held them tight. “Do you believe that she was murdered like the Targaryen children?”

“No, the Tyrells had wanted her alive. They would have made certain that everyone knew to spare her. I do not believe that her harm was intended, but war is a brutal thing.”

“It is,” she whispered in reply. They held one another in quiet for several long minutes before she spoke again. “You did what you had to do my love.”

He pressed a wordless kiss to the back of her head. He knew that the deaths of Stannis and Shireen Baratheon also bothered her deeply, but her words of encouragement helped to assuage his guilt. He knew not what would have become of himself or his children had he chosen Stannis over Renly. He had to live with the consequences of his choices, including the guilt he felt at the death of an innocent.

He held her close that night, glad to have her beside him. He was ever grateful that they were mending their relationship; she made the darkness of life bearable. He longed for the days when they could be home again, working toward the future together.

At first light, they broke their fasts and gathered in the outer yard. The grooms and attendants had gathered their horses and wagons well before the sun had risen, loading them with the provisions they would need for the journey north.

Most farewells had been said over the preceding days and weeks, but a small party still came forward to see them off. Queen Arianne Martell walked arm in arm with her cousin Tyene, while Prince Oberyn Martell, his paramour Ellaria, and the rest of his children followed after them. Ned’s children with Ashara Dayne came quickly behind them, with Ashara, Lord Edric Dayne, Lady Allyria Dayne, and Lord Beric Dondarrion.

The trunks holding the belongings of Ashara’s children and the attendants who would accompany them were already with the wagons which were going to Winterfell. New clothing had been made and packed for all of the children, warm vestments for the cooler weather. Now that autumn had arrived, the weather would only grow colder.

One by one, Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, Lucas, and Tyene kissed their family and friends farewell, joining the column which was preparing to leave. They would all ride from the city, though there was a carriage for the women and children to ride in when needed. When all were mounted, save Ned, he looked around the yard one final time. So much had changed since his arrival a year before, so many lives had been changed for good and ill. His eyes fell upon Ashara. She was watching her children, holding back tears. He walked to her, to say a final farewell.

The eyes of everyone in the yard seemed to be watching them as Ned approached her. They walked a few paces away from everyone so that they might not be overheard. “The days will pass swiftly,” he told her gently.

She forced a tremulous smile. “I know Ned.”

“I will ensure that they write to you often, and when Jon’s child is born, I assure you that you will be told.”

She laughed at that, shaking her head. “It seems like just yesterday that he was a babe in arms. Tyene as well, I remember the day Oberyn laid her beside Arianne in her infant bed. Now those babes are married, and having babes of their own.”

“That is the nature of life.” He looked at her, seeing in the early morning light the delicate lines around her eyes, the threads of silver in her black hair. “I thank you for all that you have done.”

She smiled wryly. “I am simply a mother who tried to raise her children well. Now it is your turn to teach them what you can.”

“I will do my best. Fare well, Ashara.”

The unshed tears were in her eyes again. “Fare well, Ned.” He turned to walk away when she spoke again, halting his steps. “I will miss you.”

He looked at her again, a faint, sad smile on his lips, and inclined his head to her. He walked away, mounting his horse. Ned Stark didn’t look back as they passed through the portcullis, then through the city. They left King’s Landing by the Gate of the Gods, riding north along the Kingsroad. North, to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everything my dear readers! And to one who gave me wonderful constructive criticism this week, which truly inspired me!
> 
> So, at this point I need to tell you what's going on in my real life and in regards to this story.
> 
> I'm starting graduate school on Monday! Due to that, I have absolutely no idea what my free time will look like as of right now.
> 
> I fully intend to finish the tale; there are only 4 chapters left for me to write. In total, this story will have 31 chapters (chapter 31 is finished, but the four in between aren't).
> 
> Now I know that seems really short since there are some definite story threads left open, and you will see a couple more before the end. The goal is to write a sequel which will be paced much faster and cover a longer span of time. I have a decent amount of the plot points written down but am still focusing on finishing this part of the story first. There is also a prequel which I am writing which will be canon-ish based on Ashara's life from childhood until the start of the Rebellion. I will give some details about the sequel once you have read chapter 31! :)
> 
> So that's what's going on. I wish that I could give a firm answer on how fast updates will come, but I've never been in grad school before (plus full time work, and an hour commute one way to school 2x per week). I have no idea how much of my time will be taken up with my studies. (Also, this is why I've been writing faster all summer, time crunches do wonders to speed up my efforts!)


	27. Winterfell

“It’s snowing!” Arya’s excited shouts rang out throughout the camp. From the sounds of the camp, she was far from the first person awake, though she was easily the most vocal.

Catelyn Stark turned in her camp bed to face her husband. He was awake as well, though neither desired to leave the warmth of their furs. “Snow already, we must be close to home,” she said with a smile.

“We should arise, so that we may assess the situation.”

She sighed, curling closer to him instead of away. She wanted to be home but she also wished to remain as they were, close and content. Home, and their youngest sons, were only three days away. “I suppose we must,” she eventually agreed.

They dressed quickly in the warm wool, leather, and fur clothing which was made for the North and winter. The silks and linens of the south and summer were packed away until spring bloomed again. When they opened the tent flap, a cold gust of air filled with flurries greeted them.

Early morning light, dimmed by falling snow, filtered through the trees which surrounded their encampment. The cooks, grooms, and many more attendants were busily preparing for the day. Arya was running between the tents, direwolf at her heels, shouting the arrival of snow. Eventually, other children joined her.

They stood together, watching their youngest daughter as she moved excitedly between the tents where her sister, brother, and half-siblings slept.  After a few minutes, Ned left to find Vayon Poole. Slowly, the other children emerged from the tents. She watched with curiosity as the Dornish bastards emerged from their shelters, into the white which fell from the sky.

Alysanne Sand emerged from the tent she shared with Sansa and Arya, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Sansa stepped out behind her, a broad smile lighting across her face. Robb walked from his tent with his half-brothers Arthur and Lucas. From a third tent the young lovers, Jon and Tyene Sand appeared.

They had never seen snow before, Catelyn realized as she watched the bastards. They were all looking around in wonder. Only Prince Oberyn’s daughter was old enough to truly remember winter, and she had likely only seen winter in Dorne. Snow never fell upon the sands of Dorne.

Robb, Sansa, and Arya instructed their half-siblings on the arts of playing in the snow. Catelyn smiled to herself as she watched them, strange though the sight was. Robb, Jon, and Arthur were young men now, all blooded in battle, one betrothed, one wed, and her own to be betrothed very soon. Even so, they stood with the girls and Lucas, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. By the time Ned rejoined her, the children were throwing snow at one another. She and Ned could do little but watch them and laugh.

After an hour or two the snow slowed to a stop, and the sun shone bright. By the time they resumed their journey northward, the snow had mostly melted away. Three days later, the high grey walls of Winterfell grew along the horizon. Home, after all the long months away. The chill of autumn was in the air, but the sight of home was warming.

Overall, the journey to Winterfell had gone well. The weather had been mostly favorable and the children had gotten along most of the time, with a few small spats between Sansa and Arya or Arya and Lucas. The older children had small quarrels as well, but none had lasted more than a day.

Catelyn had watched them all during the journey. For the first time, she truly paid attention to Ned’s bastards. The boys, three young men and one boy in truth, would jest and spar with one another amiably. They weren’t perfect friends, but they were friendly, working on forging fragile ties to one another. Robb’s half-brothers all seemed to be better companions for him than Theon Greyjoy had ever been, with the possible exception of Arthur.

Ser Arthur Sand was a temperamental young man. He reminded Catelyn of Ned’s brother Brandon- spirited, rash, and prone strong outbursts of emotion. Catelyn could also see Ned in the bastard boy, in the brooding spirit which they shared. It was not the boy’s rough nature which bothered Catelyn, though she did find his moods disconcerting, so much as the presence of the young woman named Bella who had been delicately introduced as his paramour.

The girl named Bella was rumored to have been a whore before she joined the household of Ned’s bastards after the war. Ned had told Catelyn that while he disapproved of his bastard son’s choice in a bed warmer, the young woman was able to calm Arthur and take his mind away from the horrors he had seen in the war. Thankfully the pair had enough sense to be discreet about their liaisons, and Bella spent most of her time with the many attendants in the column travelling to Winterfell. Even so, Catelyn was not over fond of having the whore turned paramour in their company, concerned that it might have a negative impact upon Robb.

In contrast to the volatile nature of Arthur was the quiet and shy Lucas Sand. When they had first begun the journey north, the boy had scarcely spoken during their meals. He seemed most comfortable with people he knew well, and uncomfortable speaking to anyone else. As the weeks had passed, the boy seemed more comfortable, though he was still rather quiet.

Catelyn’s emotions were rawest regarding Lucas. Ned’s youngest bastard was not only evidence of Ned’s greatest betrayal, he looked so much like Bran that she could scarcely look at the boy. Oh she knew that there were differences, Tully traits in Bran and Dayne traits in Lucas, but their shared Stark traits reminded her so keenly of her son who would never walk again. Still, she was grateful that the boy was well behaved.

Catelyn often watched Alysanne closely. An eldest child, she was a leader and a diplomat, constantly watching out for each of her siblings, half or full making no difference to her. She would ride beside Sansa one day, talking of dancing, clothes, art, and music. The next day she would ride beside Arya, speaking of swords, horses, and heroes of renown. Catelyn had been surprised to learn that Alysanne was trained in swordplay and more surprised, though she shouldn’t have been, that Prince Oberyn’s daughter was similarly trained. Tyene Sand had always seemed to be so proper. Catelyn should have remembered that Tyene Sand was the Red Viper’s bastard, no matter what else she seemed to be.

Ned had confessed to Arya’s sword training shortly before their daughters had arrived in King’s Landing from Dorne. She had been less than thrilled by her husband’s decision to encourage their daughter’s wildness. However, her opinion changed once she saw Arya training. Under the instruction of her sword master, Arya was both focused and happy, so Catelyn agreed with Ned that their daughter should continue her training. The sword master, Syrio Forel, was still in the employ of House Stark, on his way to Winterfell.

Catelyn had also been forced to admit that Alysanne and Tyene were good influences on Arya. Every time that Catelyn or Septa Mordane had attempted to make Arya behave as was befitting her position as a highborn lady, Arya had rebelled. When Alys and Tyene asked the same things of Arya, she usually submitted to their requests. Whatever the cause, Catelyn was glad that her wild little she-wolf might one day be tamed.

Catelyn was growing accustomed to Ned’s bastards, though she could not claim to love them as her children and husband did. She no longer feared that they might be a threat to her own, trueborn children. None of them seemed to have ambitions in the North, and their marriages would keep them in the south as Ned had promised. Alysanne’s marriage would be the most powerful of the marriages for Ned’s bastards, but a minor house in the Reach was of little concern to the lords of the North. Arthur would either fulfill his betrothal to the bastard Myrcella or break it for his lover. In either event, Ned’s elder bastard son would likely not have a presence in the North. Young Lucas Sand, though unpromised, was unlikely to cause any issues for his siblings. Aside from the boy’s quiet and gentle nature, he held the distinction of being the youngest of four bastard siblings and the third youngest out of Ned’s nine claimed children. With so many trueborn and elder siblings, the boy would need to depend upon his talents and the kindness of others for any position once he came of age.

Then there was Jon, who was the son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne, so far as the world knew. When they were past the Neck, Ned had finally told her everything regarding the young man. It was painful to hear, and difficult for Ned to tell her. Still, there was a relief in finally being told truths, though they had been grim.

What her husband had been through in the war was horrific. She tried to imagine Ned as he had been when they had first met, days before their wedding. He had lost his father and brother by that point in the war, and in marrying Catelyn, he had accepted that he would never see his one-time lover again. For him to kill Ashara’s brother, witness his sister’s death, and need to hide his nephew at the end of the war only compounded the horrors Ned experienced.

Catelyn could not imagine how deeply Ned must have been shaken upon arriving at Starfall after Arthur and Lyanna’s deaths, and learning of Alysanne’s existence. While there was no excuse for Ned’s actions regarding Ashara Dayne, Catelyn could understand the complexity of events which had led to Arthur’s existence. She could also somewhat understand the smug air which Ashara had affected every time they had interacted- Ashara had been entrusted with Ned’s darkest secret while Catelyn had not. However, Catelyn understood Ned’s desire to push away the past so that he could build a new future in Winterfell. She was beginning to understand so many things about her husband and the weights he carried with him. The pain would heal in time, as they worked to build their future together, for however long the gods gave them.

She had watched Jon and Tyene with curiosity. The son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, wed to a Martell bastard, it was a strange thing. Their marriage had been arranged, but their affection was genuine, and had begun long before their match was made. She understood the implications of the marriage, even before Ned spoke with her of the reasons he and Oberyn had in forging the pact. The Martells wanted to control the Targaryen heir, even if the boy remained ignorant of his heritage.

Perhaps hiding the truth was for the best. Trusting Renly’s loyalty to Jon as a shield if the truth became known seemed a fool’s notion. The lie Ned had devised to claim that Jon was Brandon’s bastard, crude though it was, would be a safe lie to tell if needed. No one would, or could, seek out information about the long dead Brandon Stark, and some equally long dead nameless woman. The sins of the past could remain buried and forgotten. The child which was now visibly growing within Tyene Sand could live in relative safety.

They arrived at Winterfell near dusk. The gates were open to welcome home the Lord of Winterfell and his family. Inside were several rows of people, residents and guests of Winterfell, all cheering their arrival. At the center of the courtyard stood Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik Cassel who was holding Rickon so that the boy wouldn't bolt toward the horses, and Bran who was seated on a wheeled chair, a thick fur covering his legs.

Though she was overjoyed that Bran was alive and awake, it cut deeply to see him as he was. He should be running, climbing, laughing; as it was, he sat still and proud, a broad smile on his face. Ned dismounted first, walking to Bran as Robb helped Catelyn off her horse.

The assembly all knelt before Ned, except for Ser Rodrik and Bran who both bowed their heads. “Lord Stark,” Bran said in his loudest, most commanding tone. “Winterfell is yours.”

“I thank you for leading in my absence, Brandon,” Ned replied, his voice full of emotion. “As well as in the absence of your mother, and Robb, and your sisters.” Tears shone in Bran’s eyes which he tried to blink away, but failed. Ned bent before their second son and wrapped him in an embrace, whispering in his ear. When he pulled away, Bran was smiling again.

Rickon was squirming so much in Rodrik’s arms that the knight was forced to set the youngest Stark on the ground. He ran straight into Ned’s arms, though a moment later he was squirming for Catelyn who was standing beside Ned. They settled on holding their youngest boy together. Robb, Sansa, and Arya surrounded Bran, each of them hugging and kissing him while they spoke over top of one another.

Grey Wind and Nymeria howled, and their voices were echoed by Shaggydog and Summer who were within the godswood. Soon the two in the yard were yipping and whining like pups. They howled again for their brothers.

“Can we go to Summer and Shaggy?” Bran raised his voice, above the voices of his brother and sisters who were still talking excitedly.

Catelyn smiled at him. “When we are finished with greetings, why don’t you and Robb take Nymeria and Grey Wind to the godswood so that they can run with their brothers? They will be in the way while we are settling tonight, but in the morning they may run freely with you and your brothers and sisters.”

“Nymeria’s going to have pups!” Arya shouted in excitement.

“Pups?” Rickon extricated himself from under Catelyn’s chin, where he had firmly lodged himself.

“Nymeria and Greywind mated when we were in King’s Landing,” Robb said. “She began to look pregnant quite recently, but we don’t know how long it will take until she whelps the pups.”

Ned looked around the yard. “Robb, please take the wolves to the godswood. Cat, why don’t you and the rest of the children head to my solar? I will finish greeting the men and meet all of you there.”

“Of course, my lord,” Catelyn replied in agreement. She pressed a kiss to Rickon’s messy hair and made him stand upon the ground, though he struggled to remain in her arms. Once he was down, she motioned for the children to follow her.

They did as they were told, Robb leading the wolves to the godswood, while the rest of Ned’s children followed Catelyn into the keep. Hodor pushed Bran’s chair to the Keep, and then carried him the rest of the way to the solar. His legs were so small, so useless. But Bran was alive, by the grace of the gods Bran was alive.

The solar had been readied for their return. There was a fire in the hearth and the candles were lit. On the table were trays of bread, cheese, and meat, and tankards of water and wine. They nibbled at the food while they waited for Ned and Robb to arrive.

While they waited, the Sansa and Arya performed the task of introducing Bran and Rickon to their half-siblings. Bran understood who they were, while Rickon was merely confused and far more interested in clinging to Catelyn. The girls regaled Bran with story after story from their journeys in the south.

Her second-son seemed falsely happy with their stories. He had wanted to be a knight, Catelyn knew. He had wanted to go south. Still, how could he resist the stories of his sisters and half-siblings talking of fleeing King’s Landing, swimming in the Water Gardens, and witnessing the wedding and coronation of King Renly Baratheon and Queen Arianne Martell?

Ned and Robb arrived as the girls were telling Bran about the small melee for the Kingsguard positions. They had skipped many months of stories in order to reach that event so quickly in their tales. While Bran still seemed disappointed that he had not been able to see what his sisters had seen, he was still amazed by all they were telling him. Rickon also delighted in their stories, asking a hundred questions.

They talked for hours, delighting in the company of one another. For the first time ever, all of Ned’s children were gathered in one place. Catelyn watched Ned and smiled, adoring him for the love he showed his children, even his bastards. They were a family, a highly unorthodox family, but a family nevertheless, and they were home.

* * *

A little over two weeks after arriving in Winterfell, Alysanne, Jon, Tyene, Arthur, and Lucas gathered together to read letters which had arrived for them from the south. Stacked in a pile, they briefly glanced at them all before choosing the ones to read first. Amongst the letters was a gift for Alys, a carved stone box, inlaid with gleaming gems and seashells. She opened the box first, while Jon looked at a letter from their mother and Tyene looked at a letter from Arianne. Upon opening the box, she produced a silver necklace studded with sapphires and amethysts, as well as a ring, bracelets, and ear clips which were similarly wrought.

“Oh, that's lovely,” Tyene said.

“Who is it from,” Lucas asked curious, though he was wandering the room, clearly bored.

“Bryan, my betrothed,” Alys answered.

“What does the letter say,” Tyene asked, setting the letter she was reading aside.

“It's private.”

“I'll tell you what Arianne wrote me if you share,” Tyene offered.

With a dramatic eye roll, Alys read her letter.

_Dear Alysanne,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am writing from Highgarden and am uncertain whether or not you will be at Winterfell by the time it arrives. Before leaving Dragonstone, I wrote to Cider Hall to send some of my family's ancestral jewelry to Highgarden so that I might send some to you. This set has been in my family for more than two hundred years, and I believe that it will suit you well. I hope that you will think of it as a token of all that is to come._

_I expect that we shall correspond regularly during your stay in the North, and look forward to knowing you better before we meet again. I understand from our last correspondence that you will remain at Winterfell for a year. I hope that this time with your family is enjoyable. I trust that near the end of your time with your family, we will discuss in some detail the dates and preparations for our wedding._

“He's so boringly formal,” Arthur interrupted, wrinkling his nose.

“We are strangers entering into an arranged marriage; at least he is kind and seems interested in me. I can't say the same of your poor betrothed.”

“The bastard I'm to marry is a child, a child born of incest and treason.”

Alys scowled at him. “A sweet child who lost everything; it wouldn't hurt to show some interest in her, to show her some kindness.”

“What would I write to her about? What do I have in common with a girl who was raised as a crown princess?”

Tyene looked at him, smirking. “Oh, my sisters have been spending a great deal of time with the Lannister bastard. Arianne wrote that Dorea and Elia have been teaching her a great many things.”

“That’s a frightening thought,” Jon muttered, somewhat humorously.

Alys swore under her breath. “ _Elia_ is teaching her things?” She stared at Tyene, wide-eyed.

Tyene laughed and shook her head. “Don’t fret. Arianne is watching them.”

The boys looked between them. “I’m missing something,” Jon said.

“So am I,” Arthur agreed.

Tyene rolled her eyes before looking directly at Arthur. “Elia adores you. She saw you kissing Bella and was devastated. We have been working to help mend her broken heart. One of Arianne’s goals is to have my little sister not hate the girl you are supposed to marry one day.”

Lucas, who had been listening to them piped up. “Is Myrcella going to learn how to use a sword?”

Tyene grinned. “Likely.”

“Do you hate me,” Arthur asked, only half-seriously.

“No,” Tyene said. “My sisters and I have always been fond of you all. And you are marvelously fun to provoke.”

“So glad to be of service,” he answered sardonically.

Laughing, Alys returned to her letter. “There is more to Bryan’s letter, if you want to hear it.”

“He's boring,” Lucas declared. “What did mama and Princ… Queen Arianne write?”

Jon, having read their mother’s letter while Alys was looking at her jewelry, lifted it again. “Mother asks after our health and sends her love.”

“She wrote more than that,” the boy protested.

Jon smiled a bit. “Of course she did, but I also want to hear what the Queen wrote.”

They turned to Tyene as she began to read Arianne's letter.

_Sweetling, I miss you more and more every day. Perhaps it is the knowledge that we will be apart for so long that makes the feeling worse. Are you and the babe well? I await news of your child's birth so anxiously, though it is months away, how much worse will I be when it is mine own? On that matter, his grace and I are making our best attempts though I am not yet carrying our much needed heir._

_Pray for that sweetling, for without a child I am afraid._

_If you have yet to hear, my brother Quentyn and his wife Margaery are expecting. This only makes me feel inadequate. Do not misunderstand, I am happy for them and for Dorne’s future._

_As to your own sisters, Elia and Dorea have taken to teaching Myrcella the very unladylike pursuits of running, tree climbing, and mild defensive skills. If Renly learns of this he will either be furious or think it hilarious, I cannot say. His grace and I are friendly though we do not hold one another in confidence. The Lannister bastard is growing more comfortable with myself and your sisters, and I think that she is beginning to feel safe. Renly assures me that he will not execute her under any circumstance, and I trust him on that matter._

_Your father still wishes to send some or all of Ellaria’s girls back to Dorne, not trusting of King's Landing. However, he is does not wish to send Ellaria away and she will not part from her little ones. So for now, that matter remains unsettled._

_I have finally learned of Sarella’s current ambitions. Do you know what she is doing? Is she mad? I always knew that she was rebellious, but this choice could be quite problematic if it comes to light._

“What is Sarella doing,” Alys interrupted.

“I am forbidden to say anything,” Tyene said. “Rest assured that if I were allowed to tell you I would. Father knows and has given her his blessing.” A moment later, once their grumbling ceased, she continued reading the letter.

_As for Obara, she seems to be recovering from Nym's death more and more as the days pass, though it is still strange to know we will never see her again. I know that it must still be difficult for you. Obara recently took a lover. Her choice was quite the shock and is the talk of the court, I assure you. It seems that she and Lord Theon Greyjoy took to practicing together in the yards, which led to dinners together, and then to long nights. I think that they both see one another as conquests, and the gods only know how it will end. Your father thinks it highly amusing._

_In other news, my mother is coming._

“Wait,” Jon interrupted, “Obara and Greyjoy?”

“That would be what she wrote,” Tyene replied.

They burst out laughing, finding the matter entertaining; except for Lucas, who was too young to grasp the details of the situation. When they quieted, Alys looked at Tyene. “Lady Mellario is going to King’s Landing?”

“She is, and that is some of what Arianne wrote about in the rest of the letter.” Her tone gave the distinct impression that she was not going to tell them any more on that topic. She tucked Arianne’s letter away in a pocket of her dress and sifted through the remaining letters with seeming indifference. “Oh, here’s one for you Alys.”

Alys looked at the seal and froze. The wax was white, and the seal was a shield. She could see Tyene’s curiosity, and wondered if it would be better or worse to open the letter in private. She forced herself to open the letter, knowing whom it was from before she broke the seal. She thanked the gods that her brothers were momentarily distracted by letters from their mother, aunts, and cousin.

She felt her face growing hot and her hands freeze as she read the letter. If she had been in King’s Landing, the King would have needed to find another Kingsguard. She wanted to kill Ser Daemon Sand, and yet...

“What are you reading?” Arthur snatched the letter from her hands.

“Give it back!” She shrieked and lunged toward him.

He ran, glancing at the letter. “You and Daemon?” His voice was taunting.

They ran into the hall, the other three close behind, and ran straight into Robb. Both Robb and Arthur fell, slamming onto the flagstone floor. Alys snatched her letter back, and was promptly pulled away by Jon so that she wouldn’t attack their brother.

The girl behind Robb gasped and stepped back, startled. Robb stood first, and then helped Arthur off the floor.

“Let me go,” Alys hissed.

“Are you going to attack him,” Jon asked, his voice a low whisper in her ear.

“No.” He released her arms, and she breathed deep to calm her shaking. Jon rubbed her shoulders with one hand, a calming gesture.

Robb smiled easily at them, attempting to disarm the situation. He motioned for the girl to step forward, and she did, taking his arm. “Father said that Lucas should attend lessons with Maester Luwin, and I wanted to introduce you to Lady Wylla Manderly. Wylla, these are my half-siblings: Alysanne, Arthur, Lucas, Jon, and Jon’s wife Tyene.” He motioned to each of them in turn, and they all greeted the young woman with polite formality.

Wylla took a step forward, still holding Robb’s arm, a playful smile on her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Please, don’t be embarrassed, my sister and I have had many spats which were quite the display. Might I ask what the excitement is about?”

Alys glared at Arthur and crushed Daemon's letter in her hand before she controlled herself and smiled. “A friend from home wrote a rather provocative letter to me and my brother decided to snatch it and read it.”

Wylla grinned. “Oh, what sort of letter, if you aren't opposed to sharing?”

She sighed. Why not? As long as she could stop Daemon sending letters like this in the future, his words were relatively harmless. “Sure, let's go back in the room. Lucas, go to your lessons.”

“But I haven't read mother's letter.”

Jon looked at their little brother sternly. “Her letter will still be here when your lessons are done. I already told her what she wrote. Father said for you to go to your lessons.”

With so many older siblings giving him the same commanding look, Lucas gave up and left. The others all entered the room, curiosity plainly visible on all their faces. Jon was still moving to keep Alysanne and Arthur apart.

Once inside, everyone sat, except for Alys. She took a few steps away, standing near a wall. “Ser Daemon Sand, newly of Kingsguard, and I shared a kiss once and he felt like writing to me… rather poetically.” She flushed red. “He wrote several insinuations which were very inappropriate.”

Tyene looked at her, something dangerously calculating in her eyes.  Wylla seemed amused. Alysanne's three brothers all had very overprotective expressions.

It was Tyene who spoke first. “When did you two…?”

“The night of the royal wedding... and that was all.”

Tyene stood and walked to her. “May I read the letter?”

Tyene knew Daemon, and Alys trusted Tyene. She handed her the letter. After reading it, Tyene swore so fiercely that even Jon was shocked.

“And all you did was kiss?” Tyene's mask of gentle poise returned, dangerously calm.

“Yes,” Alys insisted.

Something in Tyene's expression told Alys that she doubted her words but she said nothing on that matter. “I could write to father about him.”

Alys stared at her, stunned. “I don't want him dead,” she gasped. “I simply want him to stop being so insufferable. I am pledged to wed a Lord. I can't have him sending me letters like this.”

“I will write to him,” Tyene said, resting a gentle hand on Alysanne's arm.

“No, I can handle it.”

“No, you can't. You don't have to fight every battle alone; we are your family.”

Tyene's deep blue eyes held Alysanne's for several long moments, and the younger girl relaxed. “You can write to him.”

Tyene smiled, sweetness and danger mixed together. They walked toward the table where the others were sitting. Alys joined them, but Tyene walked to the fireplace and threw the letter inside before she took her place beside Jon.

With a look of genuine guilt and sympathy, Arthur looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

Alys forced a little smile. “It’s fine; you didn’t know, and you were just teasing.” She turned to Wylla, mortified by the impression she must have made upon her. “I am sorry that you witnessed this unpleasantness.

The girl cocked her head to the side, and Alys noticed that the girl’s long blonde hair had a strangely greenish tinge. “I take no offense, like I said, my sister and I have made our own spectacles. I am, however, amazed by how swiftly you resolve arguments.”

Robb laughed. “You should see Sansa and Arya fight.”

“They have improved,” said Alys in defense of her sisters.

Robb countered her words. “Except for that one fight on the way home which Tyene had to mediate; I don't know how you managed that.”

“I have five younger sisters,” Tyene stated simply. “And every one of us is our father's daughter. I’ve had to play peace keeper more than once.”

“How many sisters do you have,” Wylla asked.

“Sev... six,” she amended the number quickly. “There were eight of us before the war. My elder sister Nymeria died in the battle against the Lannisters.”

“I am so very sorry to hear that.” Sympathy shown plainly on Wylla’s face; she seemed so genuine, so kind. Alys thought that her father and his wife had indeed chosen a good match for Winterfell’s heir. “Is it normal for Dornish women to fight in battles?”

Alys was the one to answer. “Queen Nymeria of the Rhoynar was a warrior, and in her name most women in Dorne are taught to wield a blade. Training women for battle is less common now, but most of us know how to defend ourselves. Around a hundred Dornish women fought in the war.”

“Interesting,” Wylla said in a neutral tone. “I must confess that I know little of Dorne. In the North, only the women of House Mormont are trained to fight, unless you count the wildlings beyond the Wall. My father always says that women belong to the home and men to the battlefield.”

“I agree with him,” Arthur said with swift and emphatic, stunning everyone. “War is... horrible.” He froze, his eyes far away.

“He saw my sister die,” Tyene quietly added. She touched Arthur’s hand, comforting him, bringing him back to the present. Arthur looked at her, his eyes both warm and sad. Once she was certain that he was better, Tyene continued. “I am also rather reluctant to believe women should be in war, many of the Dornish women who fought did not return home.” Something in her face and voice hardened. “But women should know how to defend themselves and the ones they love. My father trained myself and my sisters, and Alys so that we could be safe.”

“Arya has been learning to use a sword as well,” Jon added.

Wylla’s eyes went wide and Robb looked a little sheepish. Arya training with a sword was not a secret, not really, but it wasn’t widely talked about either. It was apparent that the young woman had not been told all the secrets of House Stark... which reminded Alys of something.

“Have discussions concluded between your parents?” She addressed the question to Robb and Wylla.

Once they had both processed the abrupt change of topic, they managed small, shy smiles. “Our betrothal was confirmed this morning,” Robb answered.

They all congratulated the pair warmly. Some day soon, this young woman would be Robb’s wife, and eventually she would be the Lady of Winterfell. The more they spoke, the more young Wylla Manderly shone. She was clever and lively, spirited and gentle. She would be a good addition to the family, and a good leader for the North.

* * *

Eddard Stark breathed deep, feeling the chill of the morning air fill his lungs. Though a few weeks had passed, being in Winterfell with his family, his whole family, was still new very new to him. His people were returned to the North as well, except for a small contingent which remained in King’s Landing to maintain a presence at court. Most of Ned’s men had returned home, though not all. Heward, Wyl, and Jory had been slain by Jaime Lannister’s men, when Ned’s leg had been broken. Others had perished with Ser Loras Tyrell in the hunt for Gregor Clegane, and more had died in the battle against Lord Tywin Lannister or against the Lannister forces in the Whispering Wood. Still, fewer lives were lost than what might have been had they lost the war or if the war had been a drawn out affair.

He had spent the first part of the day after his return showing Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, Lucas, and Tyene around Winterfell. The rest of that day had been spent with Maester Luwin, Rodrik Cassel, and several others who had been running Winterfell in his absence. He spent the following several days meeting with the few lords who had appeared to meet with him regarding various matters and to celebrate the harvest.

More lords had arrived in the days since, some expected and some unexpected. Ned would need to find time to meet with each of them in turn, though when he would find the time only the gods knew. He bowed his head a final time before the heart tree, still glad to be home again beside the weirwood of his ancestors and the black pool of water which lay at its base.

Of all Winterfell’s guests, the two who had been most anticipated were those with whom Ned and Catelyn had discussed betrothals. After long hours of discussion, and many ravens flying back and forth, two matches had been made- one for Robb and another for Sansa. Matches for the three youngest Stark children could wait until they were older.

Robb had been reticent to agree with his parent’s choice until he met the girl, to which both Ned and Cat had agreed. So when Lord Wyman Manderly arrived with his eldest son, Ser Wylis, and young Wylla Manderly, the Starks were considerably relieved. She was a pretty girl, of age with Robb, with long blonde hair and a very spirited disposition. She was also sound of body, lean and slender, unlike her father and grandfather.

Robb’s reluctance to wed a Manderly had faded after meeting the young woman. Ever since meeting and the official signing of their betrothal, they had spent every day together- talking and walking around Winterfell. She also seemed utterly at ease with Grey Wind. She would make a good wife for Robb, Ned was certain, and a good Lady of Winterfell one day.

Sansa’s match was also a good one, though for a girl who was to have one day been the Queen, it lacked in grandeur. Still, when they brought the match to Sansa’s attention, she smiled politely and said that she would do as she was bid. She did like her match, having known him since they were children. If the match went through, Sansa would one day be the Lady of House Cerwyn, the wife of Cley Cerwyn.

Ned stood from where he knelt before the heart tree, ready for the day. Soon the direwolves were around him, whining as though they were dogs. They were confined to the godswood most of the time. With so many guests, both short and long term, filling Winterfell it wouldn’t do to have so many direwolves running around, especially now that Nymeria had whelped her litter of pups. The she-wolf had become quite wary of outsiders since the pups had been born. Once Winterfell’s population decreased, the wolves would be free to stay with the children.

He walked from the godswood. The yards were already filled with activity as he passed through them. Everyone bowed to him respectfully, most giving him hearty greetings. He greeted everyone he passed with a bow, stopping to speak briefly with some.

He contemplated how many guests were in Winterfell and how many more were due to arrive. More than a handful of Freys were guests, four were fosterlings. The fostered Freys were part of a deal Catelyn had made with Lord Walder Frey for the Northern Army to cross the Twins. The boys were named Walder, Walder, Elmar, and Olyvar. Olyvar had served as Robb’s squire during the Battle of the Whispering Wood, and the boys had become fast friends. The remaining Freys were Ser Perwyn, the full brother of Olyvar, their sister Roslin, and Arwyn and Shirei Frey, who were full sisters to Elmar. Ned liked Perwyn and Olyvar, they both seemed to be honorable young me.

Lord Roose Bolton and his new wife Walda Frey were guests. Lord Bolton lacked in trueborn heirs, and had one bastard to his name. Walda was with child, a good hope for the future of House Bolton. She was the full sister to one of the fostered Walders.

Ned could not help but think that the un-wed Frey girls had been sent to Winterfell so that they could attempt to marry into House Stark. When Robb had led the Northern Army through the Twins, Lord Walder Frey had attempted to persuade Catelyn agree to a betrothal between Robb and a Frey girl or for one of Ned and Catelyn’s other children to wed a Frey. Catelyn had declined the proposition, deferring to the need for Ned’s decision in the matter. Frey had not wanted to defy the Hand of the King, but insisted that House Stark foster some of the Frey children. The four fosterlings had been the price of Walder Frey’s cooperation in the war effort. Not that the Frey’s hadn’t tried again to gain favors with House Stark, Ser Perwyn had been the one to ask for Alysanne’s hand in marriage.

Among the other guests who had arrived were Meera and Jojen Reed, Howland’s children. Seeing them reminded Ned that he had not spoken with his old friend in many long years. He and Howland cared deeply for one another, but many painful memories surfaced whenever they met face to face. Ned had found it easier to maintain correspondence with his friend than to meet face to face. Still, seeing Howland’s children was pleasant.

Meera and Jojen had grown close to Bran since their arrival. Bran was quite frequently upset, angry that he could not run or walk or climb when all the other children could. The Reed children seemed to help Bran forget that he was broken, and with them he smiled easily.

Bran seemed jealous of his three half-brothers, and even of Arya. He seemed to be more accepting of Jon and Arthur; they were older, and they told him harrowing stories of tourneys, war, and Dorne. Arya and Lucas on the other hand were close in age to Bran, and they were both able to run and play with swords. Arya and Bran had once been close, and though she was trying to befriend her brother again, he often pushed her away.

It was Arthur who began to bridge the gap between Bran and the rest of his siblings. One day, Arthur sat with Bran in the archery range and helped him learn to shoot a bow while seated. Arthur’s Dornish bow was shorter and meant to be used while on horseback. Bran was eventually able to adapt to the seated bow, and one was custom made for him. Eventually, the others joined Bran and Arthur in seated archery and his anger toward them began to dissipate.

After all the guests arrived, the harvest feast was held. The betrothals of Robb and Sansa to Wylla Manderly and Cley Cerwyn, respectively, were celebrated. They dined for hours, and the dining eventually turned into dancing.

Ned watched his children as they danced. Robb and Sansa each partnered with their betrotheds, talking as they turned. Jon and Tyene danced together, scarcely partnering with anyone else. Alys and Arthur flitted between partners quickly, charming with easy smiles. They all seemed happy here. They all finally seemed to be getting along well. Only Rickon still seemed confused by his half-siblings, though he liked them well enough. So many new children were in Winterfell that Rickon did not understand the difference between new half-siblings and new acquaintances.

Ned and Cat sat beside one another at the high table. His leg sore as it had been wont to do ever since it had broken at Jaime Lannister’s hand, making dancing a chore rather than a delight. Bran sat with them, though he was eventually joined by Arya, Lucas, and the Reed children who distracted him and had him laughing easily. Eventually the five children left the hall, off to join the direwolves in the godswood.

When they were alone, Ned looked to his wife. She was watching the children intently. “Did you wish to dance, my lady?”

She gave him an easy smile. “No my lord, I am content to sit beside you.”

He slipped a hand in hers and squeezed. “Is all well? I received word that you were with Maester Luwin for several hours.”

For a moment, her eyes went bright with unshed tears. She forced a neutral expression. “We shall speak on it in the morning my love. Tonight, let us enjoy the feast.”

So they did, though he could not stop his mind from worry. When they made love that night, there was a fierceness to her movements to which he was unaccustomed. She had kissed and touched him as though she never would again, as she had every time they had parted for a long time. When they curled together to sleep, he could feel her shuddering tears.

“Please Cat,” he whispered, urgent. “What is wrong? I cannot sleep knowing that something is troubling you.”

After long silent moments, she stirred. She turned in his arms and ran her delicate fingers through his beard. “I love you Ned,” she whispered, trembling, “and I do not want to hurt you.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, tender. “Knowing you are in pain and cannot tell me why hurts. What did Luwin tell you?”

She pulled away, sitting up and breathing deeply. He sat beside her, their fingers intertwined. “I’m dying.” Her words were so soft that he could almost believe he hadn't heard them.

“What?”

“A wasting sickness,” she said.

“But you seem well.”

“For now,” she agreed. “However, I have felt unwell for more than a moon turn. I thought it was nothing at first. We had been so busy that I thought my health strange merely due to the stresses of travel and missing our sons.”

“Is there nothing he can do?”

“Lessen the pain as it comes,” she whispered.

He didn't want to believe her words. Perhaps Luwin was mistaken? Cat didn't look ill. Wasting sicknesses could occur at any age, he knew. He also knew that the illness tended to seem different in everyone it affected. He asked the question he dreaded. “Did he say how long this might last?”

“A few months or a year, for now he is reluctant to guess as I still appear to be healthy.” She laid her head upon his chest, nestling close to his heart. “I want us to find joy in the time that remains to us. I don’t want to focus on this illness.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her close. “I love you,” was all that he could think to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously hoping that I remember all the notes...
> 
> I had basically finished this by the end of December but hadn't had the time to do the quick edits. I was also debating holding off so that I could just post the last few chapters together but I figured that waiting this long was long enough. It's so crazy to me that this story is nearly done and that it's been over two years since I started!
> 
> Don't worry about the Freys, they were a thread that needed tied up but they aren't plotting evil here.
> 
> Umm... so Catelyn's illness was always the plan.
> 
> I've debated many times telling you my thoughts on this, and still am uncertain how much I want to share but feel that it's important. Catelyn's disease is cancer. For me, writing about a parent going through cancer is very personal. My dad died in 2011 from lung cancer and my mom just had a hysterectomy last July because it was cancerous (she's fine). I won't put in many details of the illness itself in the story because it's too hard for me to do the research.
> 
> So while I know some of you hate Cat, and some might be happy that she is dying, I hope that you can respect that for me writing about her illness in the next chapters is personal from the perspective of a child who lost a parent to cancer.... and the chapters will have some rough emotional moments from that perspective.
> 
> On a happier note, for the curious, grad school is going well. I passed Semester 1 with 2 As and 1 B, and am swiftly moving through Semester 2. School really does suck up all my time.
> 
> Miss you all!


	28. Where Sorrow and Joy Intertwine

Robb Stark was seated beside the heart tree, cleaning his sword with an oilcloth as his father had taught him. The world melted away from him, becoming just the sword and cloth, the black water and red leaves. His betrothed found him there, her long blonde hair with its strange greenish tint hung over one shoulder in a braid. Her hair had been dyed green in White Harbor. She had been forced to wash out the dye before coming to Winterfell, but some of the color had yet to wash away. She sat beside him, petting Grey Wind in silence.

When he looked at her, she smiled. He liked her smile, it was warm, sweet, and playful. “Good day, my lady.”

“Good day, my lord.” Her smile faded, replaced by sympathy. “I heard of your lady mother's illness. I am so terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” He did not want to think of his mother ailing. Two weeks ago, Robb and his siblings had been seated in their father’s solar with their parents and the maester. They explained the illness. They offered what little comfort they could. The reactions of Robb and his siblings were mixed and changed daily.

Wylla looked at her lap. Her hands played with the end of her braid. “I have been thinking.” She hesitated, a flush visible upon her cheeks when she looked up at him. “We are betrothed and of age to wed.” Her flush deepened. “It might bring joy to your mother to see her firstborn wed.”

He set aside his sword, surprised. If they would marry before… before his mother… well it would need to be sooner rather than later. “I agree that she would rejoice to see me wed. Do you truly wish to wed so soon?” The idea of marrying now seemed less peculiar than it might have once. He was a man grown. His half-brother was wed and soon to be a father.

“I am a woman grown and we are to wed eventually. Why not wed now, unless you do not wish it?” Her blue eyes regarded him with questions and a touch of playfulness.

“I would gladly wed you now,” he replied, smiling. “Though we should inform our parents of our wish.”

She laughed with agreement. He drew close to her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her. They had kissed before, though this felt different. There was no tentativeness in this kiss. She was warm and welcoming, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deep and long.

A cough caused them to spring apart, cheeks flushing red, as Robb turned to see his father. Lord Stark's face was a mask, unreadable to Robb’s eyes.

“Father,” he gasped.

“I see that you and Lady Wylla are happy with you betrothal.”

A sharp laugh escaped Wylla’s lips while Robb forced a small smile. “We are,” he replied. “We were planning to ask if we might wed soon.” His father’s brows knit in concern.

“My Lord,” Wylla said quickly. “I broached the matter to Robb only a few minutes past. I thought that your lady wife would be pleased to see her firstborn wedded.”

Lord Eddard softened at her words. “I believe that you are correct. I will speak with your father later today on this matter. For now, do mind that your passions are more controlled where others may see you.”

Robb thought of his bastard half-siblings and bit his tongue. He knew that his father meant well. Still, he had no intentions of dishonoring his lady. “As you say father; we will leave you to your prayers.”

They bowed to Lord Eddard. Standing, Robb strapped his sword to his waist and walked with his lady and his wolf from the godswood.

* * *

Catelyn held Ned's hand as they stood in the godswood awaiting Wylla Manderly and her father. Robb stood alone before the heart tree, his direwolf seated nearby with the other wolves. He was shifting anxiously on his feet. Robb wore white and grey, trimmed with silver, the colors of House Stark. He was so handsome, and so young. Her son was a man grown, but still she remembered the moment she had first held him in her arms. She was glad that she had lived to see this day.

The bride walked into the clearing upon her father's arm to the sounds of pipes, harps, and drums. She wore a pale green gown accented with Myrrish lace on her sleeves, neck, and bodice. Pearls were sewn on the bodice and sleeves, and more pearls adorned her long blonde hair.

_She is a pretty girl_ , Catelyn thought. Wylla seemed to be a good young woman, and some day she would be a good Lady of Winterfell. _And may the gods strengthen her when I am gone_. It would be good for Robb to have a wife to comfort him.

Catelyn closed her eyes against her tears and pain. How much longer would she have with her children? How much longer with Ned? She squeezed his hand tight. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at Robb and Wylla. He smiled at his bride. Mirth lit her features.

Wylla passed from her father's hand to Robb’s. Together, Robb and Wylla said the simple oaths of marriage which were done before the old gods. He unclasped her cloak, a makeshift thing fashioned of a cloak and a banner of her house, and replaced it with a cloak bearing the direwolf of House Stark. They knelt together before the heart tree and said their silent prayers to the old gods. When they stood, turning to face the assembled crowd of family, lords, ladies, and guests, they kissed to cheers.

Later they gathered in the Great Hall. Shouts of laughter and cheer echoed from the high rafters. Catelyn and Ned were seated to Robb's right while Wylla and her father sat to his left. The table below them held all of Robb's siblings, both trueborn and bastard. Further away were the various lords and ladies who had been able to attend on such short notice. Benjen had arrived from the Wall, and was seated amidst all of his nephews and nieces.

Were she not the Lady of Winterfell, she would have allowed herself to weep. She would never see her other children wed. She would likely never see a grandchild.

Her thoughts wandered to the day her mother died. Catelyn had comforted Lysa and Edmure upon their mother’s death, but there had been no time her to mourn. ‘You are the Lady of Riverrun now little Cat,’ everyone had told her. So, from that day forward she had acted as befit a lady, and did as she must rather than as she willed. She helped run the castle in her mother’s stead from that day until the day she left Riverrun for Winterfell. Her childhood died that day, replaced by duty most of the time. She had only been ten.

_‘They are too young to bear this burden_ ,’ she thought, looking at her children. They were laughing together, which was a wonderful change. In the weeks that had passed since telling the children, their moods had often been poor.

Robb and Sansa had both stepped up to assist with running Winterfell, which was a great help to both Ned and Catelyn. Since Robb had led the army of the North in battle, and had led Winterfell in the absence of his parents the previous year, it was easy to entrust many tasks to his care.

Catelyn had been showing Sansa, Wylla, Arya, Alysanne, and Tyene everything they needed to know in order to run a household. The older girls were all eager to help, the four of them all knowing that they were to run castles of their own very soon.

Arya would try to focus on her lessons, but her way of handling the future loss of her mother was anger. More than once, Arya had stormed out of the room. More often than not, she would later be returned by her sword master, in a much more subdued state.

Sansa seemed to be handling the news too well most of the time. She was trying so hard to be a proper lady that she wouldn’t allow herself the time to weep or curl against her mother for comfort. Catelyn knew that Sansa’s main solace, outside of the sept, was her new direwolf pup- Winter.

Nymeria’s litter had consisted of three wolves. The light grey wolf was Sansa’s Winter. The other two pups had been given to Ned’s bastards. After some deliberation among the siblings, the wolf pups went to Arthur and Lucas. Arthur named his wolf Onyx. Lucas had decided to name his wolf Dawn.

Catelyn was glad of the things which could distract her children. The wolves, the fostered wards, and now Robb’s wedding, were all things which were able to take their minds away from the loss which they must endure. Catelyn watched the children at the lower table.

Alysanne Sand laughed merrily with Sansa, Arya, and Tyene. Alysanne would leave for Cider Hall one day, and sooner rather than late. Tyene would return to Queen Arianne's side with Jon. Ned’s bastard sons would likely return south as well.

Catelyn watched Bran and Rickon at the other end of the table, where they were being entertained by Benjen. Bran wasn’t handling Catelyn’s illness well either. He would find distraction from all his cares by spending time with the Reed children. Rickon knew that something was wrong, but was too young to comprehend death.

Catelyn knew that Robb, with Wylla’s help, would be able to bear this loss. He and his new wife would start a family and one day lead Winterfell. Sansa would also bear the weight of loss well. She would become a dutiful wife when she came of age. Some day, Rickon would fight for his brother. Bran, though unable to walk, could use his mind as an administrator.

Arya though... Catelyn’s thoughts were troubled regarding her younger daughter. Arya was constantly compared to her Aunt Lyanna. The notion sent a cold chill down Catelyn’s spine.

Lyanna Stark had been the Lady of Winterfell after her mother’s death, just as Catelyn had done at Riverrun. Yet Lyanna had rebelled against the crushing duty of being Lady of a Great House from so young an age, and ran into the arms of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and death. What would Arya do against that weight?

Unbidden, Catelyn looked to Alysanne, and thought of her mother. Ashara Dayne had been raised without a mother as well, though Catelyn knew nothing beyond that fact.

How different might they have been if their mothers had lived? Would Lyanna Stark have run away with Rhaegar if she had had a mother? Would Ashara Dayne have mothered three bastards? Would Brandon Stark have been so reckless? Would Catelyn’s sister Lysa have grown into a happier woman? Would Edmure be married?

As she contemplated Ashara Dayne, more unbidden thoughts crept into her mind, each tasting of bitter grief. Ned had loved her once, long ago. Catelyn had loved Brandon once, long ago. In a different world they might all have been a united family instead of the difficult mess which they had lived with for so many years.

The more her mind fixated on these thoughts, an unexpected notion appeared. She hated the thought, and for the moment she did not want to consider the idea at all. Instead, she watched as her son and his new wife led the dances. They were beautiful, radiant.

Husbands and wives come together for many reasons, but the best grow to love one another. Catelyn held onto the hope that the budding affection between her son and his wife would blossom and flourish. Catelyn’s own marriage had endured many bitter days, and she still loved Ned with all her heart. She did not want him to be alone.

Catelyn’s own father had never remarried. Yet he had also never been the same after Minisa’s death. He had been alone until his own death, only a few months past. Ned’s father had also never remarried. Would Ned remain alone after she died? Though she didn’t want to think of him with another woman, she also didn’t want to think of him being alone for so many years.

Her thoughts again ran to the beautiful and spiteful Ashara Dayne. He had loved her once, in a different way than he loved Catelyn, but he had still loved her. Would he want her again? No, he would never think to cause such turmoil by asking her to Winterfell. But if he were not a Great Lord, and could follow his heart, would it lead to her once he was alone again? Catelyn truly did not want to know.

She wanted to shout at the gods that this was unfair. She was still young, and her children little more than babes. Why did she have to die? Why did she have to leave her children, her husband?

She looked at Arya again, her wild she-wolf. ‘ _She needs a mother_ ,’ Catelyn thought.

Whatever else she thought of Ashara Dayne, Catelyn knew that the woman was a loving mother. Ashara had shown great kindness to Sansa and Arya. She had also sheltered Jon as her own, for no reason but kindness.

Could such a woman be trusted in Winterfell? To raise children who were not her own with love and care? To be wife to a man who had chosen duty over her? Would Ned want it?

She did not want to think upon these things, but she knew that she would ponder the matter for many days to come.

* * *

Winterfell was an interesting place for one who had grown up in Dorne. There was something cold and imposing about the vast structure and yet, it felt welcoming. Ser Jon Sand had come to accept this strange new place as his temporary home. His family's history was here, in the very foundations of Winterfell.

He liked being here with his family, though he missed his mother, aunts, and cousin. He liked his half-brothers and half-sisters. He enjoyed learning about them. He wished that the inevitable separation across Westeros could be stopped. He wondered if they could still maintain their new friendships once they were parted.

Jon entered the small sitting room closest to his bedchambers and found his wife seated upon a cushioned bench stitching an intricate pattern into cloth. She favored him with a smile, though she only paused her attentions for a moment.

“How are you feeling?” She had left Robb and Wylla’s wedding feast early.

“As well as can be expected. The hall was too stuffy and noisy for me.”

He sat beside her, kissing her cheek. “Did you eat enough?”

She giggled. “Yes, my worried one.”

Having no response, he smiled.

“Very soon, this baby will be outside me and you will have even more to worry over.”

“I was thinking about our baby, and its future.”

“Oh?”

“I have an estate and title, which will pass to our child. We might be bastards, but our children will be more. They should have a name and arms which are noble.”

“They should,” she agreed. “Have you thought of any?”

“When Arthur and I participated in the tourney to honor father as Hand of the King we used shields striped violet, white, and grey. I was thinking of that design, but you are a Martell and those colors are important as well.”

She laid aside her needlework and pressed her lips together, as she often did when thinking. “White is often used for the Faith, which would represent my mother as well. Why not violet and grey with a white star. The star could have multiple points, representing Dayne, Martell, and the Faith. Orange and Red don’t really work with the other colors. It would be rather pretentious to divide the coat of arms from our various houses and add a bend for our bastard status.”

Jon nodded. “I like the idea. Any idea for a motto?”

She considered for a moment. “Lucky bastards.”

He burst into laughter. “Now that would be quite the motto.”

 “I thought so, but our poor children would be so scandalized by it.”

 “Hardly, but as they will be kin to the Queen’s children, perhaps something better.”

“Deeds not words.”

“I like it. Do you think we should come up with a name for the child to use?”

With a shake of her head, she leaned against him, running her hand along the swell of her abdomen. “No, I think the little one should choose.”

* * *

Tyene was kneeling before the altar to the Mother when Catelyn walked into the sept. She watched the young woman for a moment before kneeling before the Crone. A few minutes later, Tyene stood. She turned toward the door, but was stopped by Catelyn’s voice.

“Tyene?”

“Yes, Lady Stark?”

Catelyn stood, then motioned toward one of the benches. “May we talk?”

With a slow nod, Tyene took a seat. Catelyn settled beside her a moment later. “How is your pregnancy?”

Tyene’s calculating look softened into a warm smile. “The maester says that all is well. I believe him, but I’m quite ready for this little one to be out already. I don’t know how so many women go through this over and over again.”

Catelyn laughed softly. “The rewards are worth the pains.”

Tyene stroked the swell of her belly as the child kicked a foot upward. “True. What would you like to discuss, my lady?”

“What do you think of Lady Ashara Dayne?”

Tyene looked up, blue eyes narrowing. “The context matters greatly.”

Catelyn studied the young woman. Tyene was cunning, it was obvious in her eyes. “In general.”

She laughed. “That is still very vague. She’s a good mother, an able house manager, capable of running the trade contracts of a noble house, and is a talented harpist. Her morals are questionable, but you already knew that. She’s also rather emotional. Does that satisfy your question?”

“It will suffice. Thank you.”

“I’m curious, why ask me and not her children? Why ask me at all?”

Catelyn looked at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “I wanted to speak to someone with a relatively unbiased opinion of Ashara.”

She laughed again. “I’m hardly unbiased. Certainly, I’m unbiased compared to your husband and his children with Ashara, but I’m also married to her son. Are you afraid that she’ll come here after you die to usurp your position?”

Catelyn looked at Tyene, seeing an authenticity in the young woman’s face that she had never seen before. “Of course I am, but the matter is complex. I worry for my children and my husband. I have no care left for myself.”

“I am very sorry for your illness.” There was genuine sorrow on her face. “You have shown great kindness toward myself and to your husband’s bastards. No matter what you may think of Lady Ashara, know that she isn’t a grand schemer. She would never bring harm to your children. She cares too much about your husband to harm any of his children.”

Catelyn gave her a light, sad smile. “Thank you.”

* * *

 “Cat, I cannot think of this.” Ned stood from the bed, shaking his head.

“Why not?” She pulled her bed robe around her shoulders, moving to sit near the edge of her large bed. “I grow worse every day. Maester Luwin believes I may pass before four turns have come and gone. I no longer worry for myself but for you and the children.”

He looked at her, standing several paces away, illumined by the glow of the hearth. “I cannot begin to imagine the world without you.”

She felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. “I know, but I have made myself think of that future which draws ever nigh. I want to know that when I am gone our children have a woman who will show them the love of a mother. I want to know that you will not be alone. I love you too much to wish years of solitude upon you. Our fathers never remarried. Don't you believe that they would have been happier with new wives?” She did not give him much time to think before continuing. She had to speak before she thought her words through. “You loved her once. You loved her enough to betray my trust. You proved that you loved me later, by never bringing her North and keeping her children in the south. But soon I will be gone and when that happens… Ned I do not want you to be alone.”

He sat beside her and held her close. They were silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. “I will think about what you have said.”

She said nothing and merely pressing her head closer to his chest.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “How long have you been considering this?”

“I thought of it at Robb’s wedding last month, and have pondered it on and off every day since.”

“Do you want this?”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, her tears slipped onto his chest. “No, I want to live. I pray to the gods every day that they will take this from me and every day I grow worse. I have accepted that nothing will change and yet I cannot sit idly by while I am dying; I must not.”

He held her close in the silence, each of them crying quiet tears. “If you truly wish this, then in the morning we can discuss the details of such a proposal with Maester Luwin.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “In the morning.”

* * *

A knock on her door brought Ashara Dayne's mind to the present. “Enter,” she called. She saw the door of her sitting room open. Ellaria Sand entered, followed by two servants carrying trays of food and drink. Ashara felt her stomach growl as the scent of fresh bread and stew reached her nose.

“Her grace was worried when you didn't appear at the midday or evening meals,” Ellaria said as the servants placed the trays on the table. “We learned that you had not been seen since letters arrived for you this morning.” The servants left, shutting the door again.

“I have been thinking,” Ashara replied, looking at the letters which lay on the table in front of her. She picked at the bread which had been brought and ate a piece. Then she picked up one letter and held it out to the other woman. Ellaria sat beside her, reading.

Several letters had arrived that day. Some were business for Starfall or Severin Hall. One had come from Lady Marissa Dayne, inquiring about two merchants who were expected to arrive within a month. Marissa also wrote that Edric had finally come home for a brief visit. From Blackhaven, Allyria had written to announce that she was pregnant. The letter which Ellaria was reading had come from Winterfell.

Ashara had eaten half the loaf of bread when Ellaria finally looked up at her. Her expression betrayed none of her thoughts, save concern.

“This is quite extraordinary. Do you know what you will do?”

“No. I have no notion of what I should do.”

“It would be an honor for you and your House if you accept the proposal.”

“Would it?” Her tone was sharp, distressed. “You know what they call me in Dorne, among my own people. In Winterfell… by the gods I do not want to know how they think of me.” She shuddered, contemplating the vulgarities which she knew had been applied to her, some deservedly so.

“Why allow them to bother you? The Lord of Winterfell has requested a betrothal with you and his ailing wife has approved the match.”

“She hates me.”

Ellaria raised a brow but said nothing. Catelyn Stark had every reason in the world to hate her. Ashara had caused Ned to betray Catelyn. When at last they had met, Ashara had behaved as though she were a jealous adolescent, baiting the Lady of Winterfell into a battle that Ashara had lost long ago. This seeming kindness felt wrong.

“I understand why she dislikes me, but that is why I am more distressed by this matter.”

Ellaria remained silent, listening.

“I feel as though I would be an opportunist if I agree and yet I understand the request. They wish for a woman of high birth to guide their children and know that I have raised mine well. And she wants Ned not to be alone. He seems in denial over the matter but willingly offers a betrothal to me. I understand the request and yet…”

“And yet it terrifies you?”

“Yes. I know that I will not be wanted in Winterfell but do I have a choice? My children are almost all grown, three have their futures laid out while Lucas is still just a boy. I could remain with the Queen, but I am not at home here. I could return to Starfall, but Marissa has never been totally welcoming to me. If I remain in the South, I know that Jon would house me, or Ally, or Alys. However, none of those places would be mine own.”

“And in Winterfell you would finally have a position of your own.”

“But would it truly be mine own?”

Ellaria said nothing.

“Robb Stark has wed, which means that his wife is already learning to be the next Lady of Winterfell.”

“She is young. Was it not easier for your brother's wife to run Starfall with both yourself and your sister?”

“Of course.”

“And for the three of you to be involved in the upbringing and the educations of your children and young Lord Dayne?”

“Yes.”

“Might I suggest that Winterfell would be better run with your help, even as Starfall was?”

Ashara cradled her face in her hands. “It might. I need time to think it through.”

Ellaria stood, laying the letter upon the table. “You do not seem to have much time.”

Ashara looked at the letter. “No, I don’t.”

* * *

Tyene studied the tiny features of her day old daughter. The sensation she felt was so strange and overwhelming that she had no words for it. This tiny life she had carried within her was now a living, breathing infant in her arms. She had never known love so deep existed until she held Syena.

Syena was utterly hairless, so knowing whether or not her hair would be light or dark was quite impossible for the moment. Tyene suspected that her daughter's hair would be dark, given her lineage, though Tyene had taken after her mother in coloring, so her daughter might as well. As with all infants, Tyene could not see any features which reminded her of anyone in the family, except perhaps Syena’s little nose which looked quite like Arianne's and her dark purple eyes, a Dayne trait if indeed Jon was a Dayne.

Tyene had spent more than a year pondering and puzzling over little details that would likely have been lost on most people. It had begun with her betrothal to Jon, and had not abated since. Speaking with her father in King's Landing about her confusion had only raised her suspicions. She had asked around Winterfell about Lord Eddard’s movements during the Rebellion and had reached a tenuous conclusion.

Jon had left her for the moment, retiring to his rooms for rest. He was a Stark, she knew. Was he also truly a Dayne?

A few hours later, there was a knock upon her chamber door. She bade her visitor enter, and was greeted by Lord Eddard Stark. She smiled at him from her cushioned seat beside the hearth.

“Good morning my lord,” she said with a smile. “Have you come to see your little granddaughter?”

He smiled warmly. “I have, and to inquire as to your health.”

“Your maester assures me that I am doing well. I ache, though that is to be expected. Syena is also well.”

“That is good to hear. I am glad that you are both doing well.” She held Syena out to him as he walked to her. He took the infant in his arms, cradling her. A soft smile lit his features.

“How fares Lady Stark?”

His smile faded. “She worsens daily.”

“I am sorry. Has there been a reply from Lady Ashara?”

He looked to her briefly. “None as of yet.”

“These must be trying times for you, my lord. I cannot imagine the sorrow.”

He looked at Syena again. “There is much sorrow, but there is also much joy. The gods bring us both in their time.”

She murmured her agreement, thinking of her sister. Nymeria had died nearly a year past; some days the pain of loss still took her breath away. Even so, the joy of her marriage and daughter were just as strong.

Her mind wandered back to Jon, to the doubt she had of his parentage. “Who is Jon's mother,” she asked quietly.

Lord Stark stiffened, his reaction too slow to hide his shock. She had distracted him with thoughts of his wife, his former lover, and this child he called granddaughter.

“Ashara,” he replied in a voice that betrayed his distress. “Why do you ask?”

Her smile was all sweetness and innocence. “Who is his father then, my lord?”

He seemed to be at a loss for words, his eyes betraying the lie he would tell. “I am.” His voice was cold. “I ask again, why are you asking me of Jon’s parentage?”

“Because you are lying,” she answered, still smiling though she sobered her tone. “I have asked many questions, my lord, and every answer has led me to a troubling conclusion. Either you are not Jon's father or Ashara is not Jon's mother or both statements are true and Jon is a Stark and a…” Her voice trailed off.

“His mother was from Lys, Brandon is his father.”

She laughed, but paused to consider his words. He laid Syena in her cradle, his face a cold mask. She hadn't considered Brandon Stark as a possibility. Were it true, Jon would be the eldest of the Stark children. Covering up a bastard of Brandon Stark would be wise if one wanted to reduce potentially sticky issues of succession. However, her father would have told her to her face if that were true. Prince Oberyn Martell had told her to drop the matter, which had only seen to flame her curiosity.

“No my lord, for I think my father would have spoken more kindly to me if that were the case. Jon is Rhaegar’s isn't he? By your lady sister.”

Eddard Stark seated himself across from her, his brow knit somberly. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

She told him. She started with her suspicions regarding her betrothal and ended with how she had asked totally innocent questions about Robert's Rebellion as the men of Winterfell had experienced it. “It is a clever lie,” she told him. “Both that he is a Dayne or that he is your elder brother's.”

He considered her with solemn gravity. “What will you do with this knowledge?”

She reached into the bassinet and picked up her daughter, laying the girl on her chest. “Nothing,” she said simply. “I have a daughter to protect, and a husband. My father, uncle, cousins, sisters, and your own children would be in danger if the wrong person heard. Although, were the King to be a threat to my child, it is a simple matter to manage him. My sweet cousin is with child.” She spoke so softly and sweetly that her words were incongruous to her tone, but he understood her meaning and seemed to shiver.

“Will you tell Jon?”

She ran a gentle hand along her daughter's back. “I do not know. Not now, why burden him with knowing? I may if I believe the time to be proper. Have no fear, Lord Stark, Nym’s death has made war seem bitter instead of sweet to my lips. Even if Jon should learn the truth, he is not a fool. He would protect our family, and this knowledge only brings peril. Rest easy Lord Stark, this secret is safe with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys need to know that my beta is awesome. He's asked a few times this year about updates, and I finally gave him this one.
> 
> I wanted it to be longer, but moved those plot points into the next chapter so that I could bring you this one. I hope you liked it! I am so grateful to the people who are still following, even though the gaps are long between updates. 3 chapters left! Two that I have to write (the epilogue has been done for over a year). We'll see how much I can do during winter break.
> 
> For those who care about my education- 6 A's, 2 B's from my first three semesters of grad school. I'm aiming for 3 A's this semester. I also bought a house this summer (which is why I didn't update this summer). I have three papers and two finals left this semester... wish me luck, I need it.


	29. Winter's Chill Embrace

"You should send a reply."

Ashara Dayne did not turn toward Prince Oberyn Martell. She continued to stare absently out her window, watching the clouds pass. "I know. I just don't know what to say."

"Yes or no, it really is that simple."

"No, it isn't simple. If I say yes, everything in my world changes. If I say no, my world stays the same, but I will never have such an opportunity again. It would mean a lot for my family to have this alliance."

He rested his back against the wall beside her. "Forget about your family's alliances for the moment. What do you want? Do you want to become the second wife to Stark when his wife dies, or not? You won't be loved by the Northerners. You won't be loved by his children. You won't return to Starfall. He may come to love you again in time, or he may not."

She closed her eyes. "I know all of that."

"Yet part of you still wishes to go. So, what is it that you do want?"

A thin smile flickered on her lips. "I agree with Lady Catelyn's thoughts on the children and Ned. They need a mother and he needs a wife. I'm not a political threat. All of my strength, small though it may be, lies in Dorne. I would never harm her children, which she knows. I care about her children. I care about Ned. I want to help them if I can."

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "You are being very selfless, and very naïve."

"I'm not naïve." She shrugged away his hand. "I know that accepting this offer will bring me difficulty. I know that his children won't love me. I know that whenever I go north, they will all be in mourning. I don't expect my presence to change anything in the beginning. My hope is that I will be a positive influence, if I accept."

"Then accept the offer and the difficulties it will bring you. It seems that you would regret it if you do not."

She considered him for a moment, then let out a long breath. "Well then, I think it's time for me to write back."

* * *

Mother had not left her chambers for three days. She had grown painfully thin, and her skin was sallow. Sansa knew that her mother was dying, had known it for months, but watching the slow deterioration of her mother was agony.

Sansa wished that she had someone to confide in, someone who would understand. Arya had her sword master. Robb had his wife. Bran had the Reed children and Lucas. Rickon was too young to understand. Sansa did have Jeyne, but Jeyne didn't understand. Sansa could have confided in Alys or Wylla, but she didn't feel like they would understand.

Oddly, it was Tyene and her daughter who proved to be the best distraction from her mother's illness. Tyene didn't ask questions. She didn't look pityingly at Sansa. Instead, Tyene would smile lovingly at her daughter, and encourage Sansa to do the same. Sansa didn't confide in Tyene, but she was comforted by her.

Father summoned Sansa and her siblings to his solar. Maester Luwin and several of father's advisors were present when Sansa, Arya, and Lucas arrived. The rest of their brothers and sisters arrived in clusters until they were all present. They took seats around the room. The oldest three boys remained standing due to the lack of chairs.

When they were settled, father looked at them all, one by one. "I have an important announcement to make. Robb, Wylla, Alys, Jon, Tyene, and Arthur have known about the beginning stage of this for some weeks."

Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Lucas glanced at their older siblings, confused. Rickon was far too young to understand the gravity of any situation which necessitated gathering this many people into father's solar. Sansa could see strange expressions cross the faces of her older siblings. They had all been acting strangely for a few weeks, though Sansa had paid little mind to their moods since her own was so grim.

Eddard Stark continued speaking, though he seemed very uncomfortable. "Alysanne met with myself and my advisors yesterday to discuss the details of a... potential arrangement." Alys was looking at her hands. "Two months ago, my wife and I had a long discussion regarding the future." He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, reigning in his emotions. "She wanted to know that her children would be cared for when she dies. She wanted to know that I will have support after she dies. So, we wrote a letter to Lady Ashara Dayne, asking if she would consider becoming my wife after Catelyn dies."

"No!" Arya jumped from her seat. "Never!"

"Arya..." More than one voice said her name, some scolding and others consoling.

Arya didn't care. "You can't replace mother! You can't!" Not wanting to hear another word, Arya bolted from the room.

Sansa stared after her sister, then looked at Robb. How could he have known this and said nothing? She realized that he was clenching his jaw and fists. She looked at Bran, whose eyes had filled with tears.

Rickon looked at father. "Why is Arya so angry?"

Sansa buried her face in her hands, hiding her own tears.

Wylla went to Rickon. "Arya is unhappy that your mother is sick." She looked at Ned Stark. "My Lord, may I take Rickon for a walk?"

"That may be for the best," Eddard replied.

After Wylla and Rickon were gone, and the door was closed again, Sansa looked back at her father. He seemed very weary.

"Two days ago, we received Lady Ashara's reply. She has agreed to the arrangement, including the terms which were proposed in the request. She gave permission for further details to be finalized by Alysanne."

"What are those details," asked Arthur.

Alys looked at her brother, and Sansa saw genuine pain in her eyes. "We are now, by written oath, forbidden from ever seeking legitimacy. If mother and father wed, per the initial agreements, and they should have children, that child would only have a claim in the line of House Dayne. That child would only gain a claim to House Stark if all legitimate descendants of Lady Catelyn die and he or she is not suspected of treachery."

Arthur looked from Alys to Ned with so much vitriol that Sansa flinched. "You're acting like we're traitors. We've never done anything against you. Why would we ever seek power in this wasteland of yours? Why would you agree to consider a child who doesn't even exist a traitor?" He looked back at Alys, who cringed. "And you actually signed your name to this? Mother agreed to this?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He shouted a few obscene invectives, and stormed out of the room in the same way Arya had done only a few minutes earlier.

Alys buried her face in her hands.

"Lord Stark," Tyene said, her voice very gentle. "Perhaps it would be wise to reconsider the words of this contract? I understand the desire to protect legitimate claims."

She paused a moment, looking at Eddard. A flicker of something Sansa couldn't name passed between her father and Tyene in that look. "However, what this family needs is unity, not division. What good does this oath do? In half a year, Alys will be Lady of Cider Hall. Jon and I, along with our daughter, will return to court."

Jon spoke up, his voice calm. "Lord Stark, do you believe that any of us would seek to incite divisions amongst out brothers and sisters? I love all of my brothers and sisters. I want their welfare. I would fight anyone who wants to usurp the rightful claims of your trueborn children."

Ned Stark's affection for Jon showed clearly on his face. "I do not doubt your faithfulness."

"Then why have a written oath stating that we aren't to seek legitimacy?" Jon questioned. "Why have it written that a child who hasn't even been conceived has no rights to Winterfell?"

"Renly Baratheon." Alysanne's voice was very quiet, though Jon heard and stopped.

Jon was confused. "What?"

Alys sighed. "Renly is a third son. The rights of Stannis Baratheon, his elder brother, were usurped to place him on the throne. Shireen Baratheon died in the siege, usurping her position. Mother's children are all closely tied to the crown while Lady Catelyn's are not. I'm older than all of Lady Catelyn's children. When these facts are looked at together, we could be used against our trueborn brothers and sisters. This contract simply puts in writing what has been traditionally accepted. We are saying that we will seek the welfare of our trueborn brothers and sisters and that we will not seek to usurp their positions."

Robb looked at Alys, then Jon, then their father. "It's also an oath that the people of the North will take seriously. Everyone will know that the children of Lady Ashara Dayne are loyal to Winterfell. I trust all of you. I believe that all of you want what is best for our family."

Jon looked at Robb, his expression rueful. "So, this is just a formality?"

"It was also written to appease my uncle, Lord Edmure Tully," Robb added apologetically.

Alys stood, stretching. "It was the necessary thing to do. Our family is tied to far too many others. Robb is the heir to two kingdoms. Robert Arryn, young Lord of the Vale, is cousin to Lady Catelyn's children. And our side of father's children are tied to a lot of southern houses, including the Queen. Syena and the prince or princess that Arianne is carrying will be cousins."

Jon sighed. "I guess it makes sense. I'll talk to Arthur later. Is there anything else you wanted to tell us, father?"

Sansa listened as her father told them more about future plans for their family. Sansa didn't understand, how could he replace mother? Mother wasn't dead, she was still alive. Sansa held back her tears, remaining as calm as she could while the world fell apart.

* * *

Arya ran to her mother's room. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at her face as she reached the door. Gulping, she opened the door. Her mother was inside, reading a book. The sight of her mother caused a deep ache in Arya's chest. Tears broke out again.

"Sweetling," Catelyn's quiet voice was soothing to Arya. "What's wrong Arya?"

Arya ran to her mother, climbing up on the bed. Catelyn barely had time to set aside the book before Arya was in her arms. Arya shook with sobs as her mother smoothed her hair and whispered softly to her. When Arya finally calmed, hiccupping from the force of her sobs, she struggled to find her voice. Catelyn understood.

"Your father told you of the future arrangement?"

Arya nodded. "Why?"

Catelyn sighed heavily as she stroked Arya's hair. "For many reasons, sweetling. I am not fond of Ashara Dayne, but she is a good mother. She raised four well-behaved children. She also cared for you and your sister for several months."

"She wasn't alone," Arya muttered.

"You didn't hate her in King's Landing."

"I do now. She can't replace you. She won't be my mother."

"Oh, my wild little wolf, no one expects her to replace me in your heart."

"I don't want her here at all. I don't want you to die."

"I don't want to die either, sweetling." Catelyn's voice caught. "However, that is not the path the gods have laid out for us. We will all die one day. I wish that I could see you and your sister and your brothers all grow up. I want to see you all married, with children of your own. Perhaps the gods will allow me to watch over all of you when I am gone."

"How old were you when your mother died?"

"Only a little younger than you are now."

"Do you think she watched you?" Arya looked up at her mother, eyes full of tears and hope.

"Yes, I do." Catelyn gently wiped her daughter's cheek with her hand. "And I will watch over you when I am gone."

Arya snuggled closer. "Can you read to me?"

"Of course," Catelyn said.

She picked up her book and began to read to Arya. Her voice was softer now, her tone pained and hazy from sickness and milk of the poppy. Arya quieted as her mother read, willing herself to forget the inevitable. Sansa and Bran came later, both of them upset. Catelyn soothed their fears as well, telling them she loved them and that they had nothing to fear.

* * *

After the meeting, Robb found his wife and youngest brother outside. Wylla was showing Rickon the most effective way to throw a horseshoe to get it around the metal pole. She smiled at Robb as he approached. "Is all well?"

He sighed heavily. "For now. Jon has to go talk to Arthur, and everyone is upset."

"Arthur left as well?"

"He stormed out shortly after you two left." Grey Wind approached from the godswood with Shaggydog. The direwolves had all been kept in the godswood for the family meeting, since the sheer number of wolves was too much for castle hallways. Robb ran his fingers through his wolf's thick fur. Rickon wrapped his arms around his black direwolf in greeting before wandering off.

"I think Alys let the wolves out," Wylla said. "I saw her walk toward the godswood with Lucas."

Robb nodded distractedly.

Wylla walked to him, resting a hand on his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I wish I knew. I feel so lost." He laid a hand across hers, squeezing gently. "You are my only ray of light in this world of gloom."

She smiled a little, her eyes sparkling in a way that Robb didn't understand. In the few months they had been married, Robb had learned many of his wife's moods. This one was new.

She leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "I can give you one more ray of light; I'm with child." Her eyes danced with joy as she looked at him.

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "As much as I can be, yes. I mean, this is the first time, so I could be wrong. I don't think I'm wrong though."

Robb caressed her cheek, and kissed her. "That's wonderful."

They moved apart, and began to walk slowly through the castle grounds.

"Do you think we should tell your mother? I was hesitant to say anything because I am only just certain that I am with child."

"Yes. I think she would want to know."

She reached for his hand when he sighed. "I know that this isn't easy for any of you."

"It's more than just my mother dying. I am the heir of two kingdoms. If anything happens to my uncle before he marries and has children, I become the Lord of Riverrun. I have already taken on many responsibilities here in Winterfell. I know my duties, and am willing to do what is expected of me, but it is so much."

She squeezed his hand. "You are managing your affairs well. Isn't your cousin Robert just a child, and he rules the Vale."

Robb snorted. "He was forcibly removed from his mother's care because she was considered unfit to raise the Lord of the Vale. Lord Royce now oversees the training and upbringing of my cousin."

"Well, then it appears you are leagues ahead of your cousin." She gave him a sly smile, which he returned. "Your brothers and sisters will all support you in your positions. You know that they will. Even your half-brothers and half-sister will support you."

"They're upset with the contract too."

"Is that why Arthur is angry?"

"Of course it is, I would be too if I had to sign an oath that assumes I might be a traitor one day. Alys and Jon understood the importance of the oath, and they seem to be able to convince Arthur when needed."

Wylla nodded. "True. I do think he has the most unfair deal out of your half-siblings. Alys will become a lady of a respectable house. Jon married a woman he loves, and is in high favor with the King. Arthur is betrothed to a bastard born of incest and treason."

"Father allows him to keep a mistress, which could be seen as generous." Robb thought bitterly of his father's choices when it came to women and bit back bitter remarks.

"I do believe that Lord Stark allows his bastards more freedom than one would expect because he is attempting to amend for lost time."

"I suppose."

They walked on in silence for a time. "What do you think of the proposed marriage, now that everyone has agreed to it?"

"I understand all of the reasons for it. I just... why her of all people?"

Wylla laughed lightly. "Probably because they don't want you to have any more half brothers and sisters. I heard a few rumors that Ashara Dayne and Oberyn Martell have been involved for years. The fact that she has no children from Prince Oberyn might mean that she can have no more children. If she can have no more children, why not have your father marry the mother of his bastards? It makes everything far tidier than if your father marries again and has more children with yet another woman."

Wylla looked at Robb with sympathy. "Your mother doesn't want your father to be alone after she is gone."

"I know."

"Do you want to go to her?"

He nodded. Hand in hand, they turned back toward the Great Keep.

* * *

Catelyn worsened over the following four days. She refused milk of the poppy, though it was the only thing to ease her pain. She wanted to be alert for as long as possible, in order to see her children and her husband. Everyone knew that the end was near.

She fell into a deep sleep on the fourth day. Ned sat with her as she slept. He held her hand. He spoke to her, telling her that he loved her and begging forgiveness for the wrongs he had committed against her. She never stirred.

Ned watched her breathe. Shuddering, pained sounds drawn from her lips. They grew slower, and then they stopped.

* * *

Two weeks later, Alysanne sat with the women of Winterfell as they worked on sewing. Alys hated how much had changed in Winterfell since Lady Catelyn's death. Her illness had made life difficult, but it had been bearable. It wasn't as bearable now.

Arya had closed herself off from everyone, even from her sword instructor. Syrio Forel was going to be leaving Winterfell soon. He had apparently expressed a desire to return home, and would depart within the next few months. Arya did attend the sewing sessions, but no one dared correct her. Her moods were very dark.

Sansa was distant, but polite. She threw herself into duty and responsibility over everything else. Alys worried that Sansa would exhaust herself with work.

Wylla was managing her new duties well, and did her best to lighten the moods of her good-sisters. Tyene also tried to help Sansa and Arya. Between Wylla and Tyene, there had been some improvement, but not much.

Alysanne's bond with her sisters had been weakened since the announcement that Ashara would one day marry their father. Sansa and Arya had both grown cold toward Alys, as though the entire idea was her fault.

Frustrated, Alys set aside her sewing, and walked outside. She was still shocked by how cold it was most days in Winterfell. Perhaps the cold was fitting for such gloomy times.

Lady Catelyn's funeral had been a mostly Northern service, though the septon also performed some rites of the Faith. Alysanne had stood with her father, brothers, and sisters during the ceremony. Robb and Arya had stood still and silent throughout, jaws clenched and fists curled. Bran had cried quietly some of the time, but for the most part he was calm. Rickon still thought that his mother would return. He didn't understand the permanence of death yet. Wylla was able to keep the youngest Stark calm and quiet throughout the service. Sansa had been able to control her tears most of the time, but she fell to the ground in sobs as the coffin carrying her mother's bones was carried into the family crypt.

Outside, Alys made her way to the stables. She greeted the stable hands, and made her way to her horse. She gave the horse a handful of oats before she began brushing the mare's mane. She wanted to enjoy the time she had with her family. She felt guilty and selfish for wishing that everything could be fine again.

Alysanne thought through everything that had happened over the previous two years. She had met her father and half-siblings. She had travelled to King's Landing and Winterfell. She had mourned Nymeria Sand. She had celebrated the weddings of Jon to Tyene, Arianne to Renly, Robb to Wylla, and Quentyn to Margaery Tyrell. She was betrothed to a good man. She had met her uncle Benjen and bid farewell to him when he returned to the Wall.

A boy named Samwell Tarly had gone with Benjen. Alys and Sam had talked on and off before he left. They were able to share some interesting stories. The Tarly and Dayne lands were only a few day's ride apart. However, since Lord Tarly disliked the reputation of Ashara, the Tarly's did no business with the Daynes.

In the past two years, Alys had also had her first kiss, with Daemon Sand. She was fond of him. He had written to apologize for his crude letter, and humbly begged her forgiveness. She had forgiven him willingly, and now found the whole matter amusing.

Alysanne's thoughts turned toward the future. She would be married in a year. She would be living far from her father. Far from Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. Jon and Tyene and their daughter would be in King's Landing. Where would Arthur and Lucas be? Their mother was coming to Winterfell, and Ashara would live in the North. Would the younger two Sands stay with their mother?

Alys stopped brushing her horse to wipe away her tears. Her family would be pulled apart whenever Alys and Jon returned south. Would they ever all be in one place again?

It was too soon to think about the inevitable future. After all, Ashara Dayne had not come north yet.

* * *

"I will miss you," Oberyn said.

Ashara was checking her rooms one final time before leaving King's Landing. Everything was packed. All of her belongings and servants were already on their way to the ship that would take them to White Harbor.

She picked up her cloak from its hook before turning to look at him. "I will miss you as well."

He walked to her, and cupped her cheek with one hand. "It will be difficult never seeing you again."

She laughed, pulling away from him. "You might see me again, but I think that Ned might kill you if you try touching me again."

He laughed with her. "I swear that I will honor your marriage."

"Good." She gave him a playful smile. "Besides, you have Ellaria and whomever else the two of you want to enjoy."

His eyes flicked up and down her body and his lips spread into a thin smile. "You are right, of course."

They walked from the room, side by side. They talked on and off as they made their way to the courtyard. The weather was cool and crisp. Ashara was surprised by how many people were waiting to bid her farewell.

The night before, Arianne had thrown a small party of farewell for Ashara. Allyria, Edric, and Beric were there from Blackhaven. Allyria had grown round with her first pregnancy. Ashara was saddened that she wouldn't be there for her sister when the baby was born. Arianne's mother and youngest brother, Trystane, had been present. Quentyn wanted to visit his mother, but he was in Dorne with his wife and their newborn son, Lewyn. Ellaria, her daughters, and Obara had been present at the party as well. Oberyn's daughters had given Ashara many gifts and letters for Tyene, Jon, and Syena.

All of them had come to bid her farewell. Edric and Allyria were the first to hug and kiss Ashara in parting. Queen Arianne Martell and her cousins also kissed Ashara farewell. As did Ellaria. Beric Dondarrion promised to care for the Dayne family responsibilities in the south, including Jon's estate, until Ashara's children returned south.

It was a bitter decision for Ashara to go north. She knew that she would leave her family and most of her children in the south. Would she see them again? Was the sacrifice worth any potential reward? It was too late for doubts.

Oberyn helped Ashara mount the horse which would take her to the docks. She looked around the crowd one final time. Her eyes held Allyria and Edric's gazes for a very long time. Unable to speak from emotion, she raised a hand in a gesture of farewell. Then she turned, and rode with her escort to the docks.

Over a month later, Ashara arrived at White Harbor. She was greeted with a false sort of courtesy by Lord Manderly. She could see that they were assessing her. The northerners watched her every move, commented on her clothes and commented on her choices of food. Ashara treated them politely, though it was wearying.

A few days later, Ashara left with an escort for Winterfell. It snowed on and off along the way. The cold seemed to cut through her at times. She had lived most of her life along the southern coast, where snow never fell. In the north, life was cold and hard. Did she really want this? The doubts of the northerners made Ashara grit her teeth and reassert her stance that she had made the right decision.

At long last, she arrived at Winterfell. The day was cold, but sunny. Ashara was greeted by Robb Stark and his wife, along with Alysanne, Jon, Arthur, and Lucas. Lucas flew into his mother's arms, and was swiftly followed by the rest of her children. She had missed them all so much.

When Ashara finally extricated herself from her children, she bowed slightly to Robb.

He bowed politely in greeting. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Ashara. Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Wylla of House Manderly."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Wylla," Ashara said.

Wylla clasped her hand in greeting. The young woman was visibly pregnant. "It is so lovely to meet you. I hope that the journey wasn't too tiring. I know that it is quite a distance between here and King's Landing."

"It was a thankfully uneventful journey, but it was indeed very long." Ashara looked around the courtyard. Her trunks were being unloaded by various men. She didn't see Ned anywhere.

Robb realized the problem. "My father is in the sept."

"I can take you there mother," Alys offered. "That way my brothers can oversee all the other details of your arrival."

Robb agreed to the arrangement. Ashara hugged her sons again before walking with her daughter to the sept.

The Sept at Winterfell was small but lovely, with windows of colored glass and small marble statues of the Seven. It was there that Ashara Dayne saw Eddard Stark, seated on a bench, bent with his face in his hands. He must have heard her footsteps, for he turned to her shortly after she entered the room. He blinked at her in solemn confusion.

"You've already arrived," he said quietly.

"Only a short time ago. Robb, his wife, and our children greeted me, though Tyene and her daughter were absent. Alys brought me here. Robb is overseeing everything that came with me."

"I must have lost track of time. I had meant to be there to greet you. I hope you will forgive that discourtesy."

"There is nothing to forgive," she replied softly, sitting on a bench near him. She looked around at the colored patches of light on the floor. "I had not thought to find a sept in Winterfell."

"I had it built for Catelyn." Sorrow was thick in his voice.

"I am certain that she loved it."  _And that she loved you for it_ , Ashara thought. When had he built it? Had it been a peace offering after he told Lady Catelyn of his bastards? She felt a chill run down her spine. Perhaps she should never have come to Winterfell.

"She did." His voice was very soft when he spoke. He seemed a world away from that small room.

"I am very sorry for your loss." She wanted to embrace him. She wanted to comfort him, as she would a member of her family or a loved one. Instead she sat still and frozen, watching him.

"I thank you for your condolences," he replied.

She felt like she should say more, but words failed her. She had never shown any kindness to Catelyn Stark, but in the end Lady Catelyn had willingly offered her Ned.

_'I cannot find it within myself to bear any warm feelings for you_ ,' Catelyn Stark had written.  _'However, I know that my death is coming soon. I think now of my children and their futures. I think back to mine own childhood, and Ned's, and even yours Lady Ashara. I wonder how different all might have been if we had not grown up motherless. Many here say that Arya is much like her aunt Lyanna. I fear for her if that is true. She needs a mother. Sansa is too young to worry only of managing a castle as I did as a girl. Rickon and Bran are still very young and need a mother as well. Robb will have his wife, Wylla of House Manderly, in his struggles, but they too are young. And there is Ned, whom I love, I do not want him to be alone.'_

"How was your journey," he asked after they had sat in silence for several long moments.

"Chilly," she replied with a light smile. "In Dorne it is so easy to forget the cold."

"It will only grow colder as the days pass," he stated.

"I will endure it with a smile, lest your northerners believe me weak."

He smiled at her. "It may take time for my people to grow accustomed to your presence. They treated Cat with suspicion, thinking she would freeze in the North."

"I did not come here expecting to be loved by your people or your children."  _Or even by you_ , she added in her head.

He nodded silently, lost in thought.

"How are your children faring?"

"Some days are more difficult than others," he replied. She knew that he meant it about himself as well. "Robb, Wylla, and Sansa have borne much responsibility for the managing of Winterfell since Cat…" He stopped, shook his head, and continued. "Lady Wylla, has been learning how to manage the castle and to be a wife. She's quite a spirited young woman. I am glad that Catelyn could see at least one of her children wed. Wylla is also with child, and Cat knew that too."

"I am certain that it delighted everyone to celebrate such a joyous event, even amidst such sorrow."

"It was a happy moment," he said. "The birth of Jon and Tyene's daughter was such an occasion as well." He looked to her with grave solemnity. "Tyene knows."

She repeated his words in her mind, trying to comprehend his meaning for a moment. When it came to her, she felt her back tense. "How?"

In a voice which was more vibrant than it had been, Ned told her. "Prince Oberyn has a very cunning daughter. She had been suspicious of her father insisting that she wed Jon. In King's Landing, she asked him about the match, and thought his evasions suspicious as well. She made discreet inquiries here about my movements during Robert's Rebellion, and began to add the months. The day after Syena was born, I came to her chamber alone to meet our granddaughter. Tyene asked me in her sweetest tones who Jon's father was. My shock was too great for her to believe the lie that Jon was born of Brandon and a woman from Lys, so I told her the truth."

"Does Jon know?"

"No. Tyene said that she might tell him, though she is uncertain."

"She loves him," Ashara said simply, "and Arianne and many more who would all be endangered should this become known. She may tell him, or she may not. I doubt she will be heedless."

"I agree. She has her daughter to fear for if that secret is known."

They fell into silence, thick and uncomfortable. She didn't know what to say or do. The reality of her situation was only now truly sinking into her mind. She was afraid.

"If you want, I can go. I'm certain that one of the children can show me around."

He looked at her, seemingly more aware. "No, I will show you around Winterfell and introduce you to everyone."

"Thank you," she replied, standing. He stood a moment later, and she saw that he struggled for words. "Ned, I want you to know that I came here with no expectations. The contracts have been written and signed, but you need not press yourself into… into anything." She stopped, trembling somewhat.

He stood and walked to her, taking her hands in his own. "I am glad that you came," he said simply. "It will take me time to adjust... to everything."

"Take your time, mourn your wife. I will learn my duties and fulfill them. We need not… even once we wed… If I am no more to you than a companion, I shall still be content."

Wordless, he embraced her and pressed a kiss to her brow. He released her a moment later and allowed her to calm herself. "Thank you," he said. "Why don't we speak more on these matters later?"

"As you wish," she agreed, breathing deeply to calm herself. She forced a smile. "Shall we walk?"

Side by side, Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark walked from the sept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  I have so many thoughts about this story and chapter at this point that I don't know if I can have them all make sense.
> 
> I have never written a more emotionally challenging chapter. The last part of this chapter, in the sept, was written well over a year ago. The death and funeral and Arya's scene with Catelyn were the most difficult things I have ever written, from an emotional standpoint. I know in many ways that I was putting this chapter off because I didn't want to face those scenes. (I also did have 3 crazy semesters and move in the past year and a half, so that helped the procrastination.) I still haven't reread them to check if I'm okay with all of the sentences, my beta read the chapter and I am certain that I will some day to correct any awkward or missing words. Right now, I can't do it. Not because the characters themselves mean so much, but because of the losses I have experienced that related to those scenes. I thought a lot about my father's death in 2011 when writing this, and of my grandfather's death in 1997. I also thought of my good friend whose mother died in 2016. Bits of those experiences are in this chapter.
> 
> I also know that there are only two more chapters of this story, only one of which needs written. So it's emotional and stressful and strange to think that I will soon be closing this world. I have ideas for a sequel, the threads of which are spread throughout this story. I'm not certain when or if I will get around to it, but I would like to write it out one day. I have the basic arcs planned, but don't know how I want to execute them. I do plan to finish the prequel over the summer. It's not long and focuses on Ashara's childhood through her return to Starfall when she is pregnant with Alys.
> 
> I know that I just shared a lot. I do feel like I consider some of you friends after all the many conversations I have had over the years I have been writing this story. I love talking with all of you. I am so amazed and humbled and thrilled by how many of you are reading this story. Some of you have been here since I started, including the first two versions of chapter one... Some of you have given me help and suggestions on scenes. My beta and one of my other fandom friends came from other stories that I basically abandoned for this one. I'm sure that I'll give more mushy commentary at the end of the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments. Thank you also, to all of my silent readers.
> 
> As a random thought, if some of you are interested in how much this story changed from the outline as it was being written, I can write that in the notes of the next chapter. Let me know :)
> 
> PS, I did get 3 A's last semester on some of the hardest classes in my program.


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